Skyrim Book V: Glenys
by gypsybee09
Summary: Unlike her sisters, Glenys always preferred books and research over action and adventure. Thrust into an unforeseen situation, she is entirely out of her element as the family must flee to escape the Thalmor. In Skyrim, she finds herself alone in the unforgiving country. Follow the Altmer as she finds her way and discovers her talents are good for more than just scholarly pursuits.
1. Skyrim

Chapter One: Skyrim (Morndas/Tirdas, 18/19th of Last Seed)

She had walked all night, and her feet were exhausted. She'd only gone to the river to fetch some drinking water and wash some of their extra clothing, but when she had returned to the camp, it was abandoned. Upon further exploration, she came across what appeared to have been the scene of a battle. If her brother and sisters had been involved, they had survived because theirs weren't one of the many bodies scattered about the road.

She had been the one to map out their journey and had told her siblings if they were ever separated, they should meet in Helgen, as it was the first town in Skyrim they would come to on their planned route. From what she had read of Helgen, it was a large walled town with an inn that was a common stop for travelers and still under Imperial control, so a group of Altmer just passing through wouldn't garner a great deal of attention. She headed in that direction, hoping her family would as well, though, in truth, she wasn't certain if they would remember the meeting spot. The last few weeks had been chaos and constant travel, and she could barely remember what she had managed to scrounge together for breakfast let alone long-term plans.

Glenys was known as the brains of the family. Although all of the siblings were blessed with above-average intelligence, excellent instincts, and common sense to boot, Glenys' photographic memory and insatiable hunger for learning had her excelling her siblings when it came to general knowledge, historical events, and geography. None of them had been to Skyrim, but Glenys had read every book she could get her hands on and had read and reread her uncle's letters.

It was just an hour or so after dawn when Glenys finally arrived in Helgen. Much as she had pictured it, she happily strolled toward the gate, wondering if any of her siblings had beat her to the inn or if she was the first to arrive.

Just then, a group of robed Thalmor emissaries on horseback road up to the gate ahead of her, and she stopped quickly, watching as they spoke to the guards and made their way inside the town.

Well, Helgen was ruled out. It would be far too risky to enter a town with known Thalmor officials this far south. Especially together. First and foremost was survival. They had all agreed if they were ever separated, they would do what needed to be done to survive alone while looking for each other. Glenys' sense told her that meant not following the group of Thalmor into the city. Skimming her map, Glenys wondered where she should head next. Riverwood, Falkreath, and Ivarstead were the closest settlements, and although all had inns, they didn't have the population that would allow a group of six Altmer refugees to blend in mostly unnoticed. It looked like Whiterun was her next option.

Sighing at the idea of having to continue walking when she was exhausted and famished, she resigned herself to continuing her journey, deciding she would revisit Helgen in a day or two in hopes of finding her family.

* * *

The Bannered Mare had been a lovely place to rest her head for the night. The bed was comfortable, the room warm, and the food satisfying. The people watching had been epic. For as long as she could remember, Glenys had enjoyed watching people. She happily perched herself on the edge of rooms, content to sit alone and avoid conversation, simply studying the people around her. The differences in people and cultures fascinated her - their mannerisms, style of clothing, accents. Sometimes she would make up stories in her head about the people she watched, but, mostly, she just soaked in whatever knowledge she could glean from the environment.

After enjoying a small breakfast by the fire, she made her way back outside the gates of the cheerful walled city of Whiterun. Her feet were sore and blistered after all the foot travel they had undergone in the last weeks, but she knew she needed to return to Helgen to find her brother and sisters.

Rounded tents of animal hide were set up outside the city which she hadn't noticed upon arrival the day before, and Glenys' eyes widened with excitement when she realized it was a Khajiit caravan. She had never personally encountered anyone of the cat-like Khajiiti race, but she'd read about them, of course, and heard of their ways from her sister, Aerenwen, whose best friend back in Vulkhel Guard had been one of the felines. The idea of actually meeting some of them herself, thrilled her to no end.

"Hello," she said simply as she approached one man, a brown cat with white markings, wearing expensive clothing and sitting outside one of the tents.

"Greetings, elf," the cat replied. "What can Ri'saad do for you today?"

Glenys had read that the Khajiit usually spoke in first person, something about their communal way of life and having no sense of ownership. She found it fascinating, and ironic, that a race of people who owned nothing of their own had found fortune in other provinces selling goods. "I've only just arrived in Skyrim," Glenys explained, "and I've read about your trading caravans. I just needed to get a closer look if you don't mind. I enjoy learning about other cultures immensely." She knew some would find that odd. Her sisters had often referred to her as 'socially awkward', but she was who she was, and she'd learned to live with it years ago.

"Not at all," the trader replied with a smile. "Ri'saad is happy to converse with those who accept the Khajiit as they are. So many look down upon us. We are seen as theives and beneath most other races, and in Skyrim, we aren't even allowed within the city walls. It is refreshing for Ri'saad to meet a high elf such as you."

"Are you packing up?" Glenys asked, watching as two other cats began tearing down one of the nearby tents.

"Yes. Ri'saad owns three caravans in Skyrim," he replied. "This is the one Ri'saad travels with, and we travel between the cities of Whiterun and Markarth, spending a week at a time outside each. It is time we move on to Markarth."

Glenys frowned, realizing she only had a short time to visit with them.

"Where are you traveling to on this beautiful day, young elf?" Ri'saad asked.

"Helgen," she replied.

"Have you not heard the news?"

She shook her head.

"A traveler arrived just an hour ago with news of a dragon attack on Helgen," Ri'saad replied. "The city was destroyed. Many perished. A friendly guard told Ri'saad, so we would avoid the city in our travels."

Glenys wasn't entirely certain what to do with that information. First of all, a living dragon? That was a lot to process. Secondly, she could only thank the divines that she had spotted those Thalmor and chosen not to spend the night in Helgen and pray that her brother and sisters did the same. "I guess I'll be staying in Whiterun a bit longer then," she said, turning to look over her shoulder toward the city's walls.

"Ri'saad does not make this offer often," the cat-man stated, standing, "but he likes you. This one thinks you may be interesting to talk with, and you seem to want to know more about our culture. Perhaps you would like to travel to Markarth with Ri'saad and his friends?"

Glenys' eyes widened in excitement at the opportunity. She ignored the little voice telling her to turn around and go back to Whiterun and nodded eagerly. To travel with a Khajiit caravan and to have the opporunity to visit the city of Markarth, built atop ancient Dwemer ruins was an opportunity she just could not pass up.


	2. City of Stone

Chapter Two: The City of Stone (Fridas, 22nd of Last Seed)

During her three days of traveling, Glenys had learned a lot. Well, perhaps, not so much as learned but saw with her own eyes the things about the Khajiit she had read during her studies at home. They worshipped the moons, and it was because of this they were so fond of moonsugar. They felt it was a form of crystallized moonlight, and by consuming it, which they generally did daily, they were, in a sense, consuming a piece of the divine.

Moonsugar was illegal throughout Tamriel, aside from in the Khajiit's homeland of Elsweyr. It was a highly addictive substance that caused the user to experience fits of euphoria, especially when manufactured into a drink called Skooma. Glenys had never tried it, and politely refused to when it had been offered to her on their journey, but she saw none of the traits of moonsugar use amongst her new Khajiit friends. She gathered because they consumed it so frequently in small portions, they had built up an immunity to its affects.

Ri'saad was obviously in charge of the caravan. The others clearly respected him greatly and looked toward him for guidance and leadership. Even the prefix of his name 'Ri' was one that signified great respect. Glenys found Ri'saad to be very kind, incredibly intelligent, and he even possessed a dry sense of humor. He had a deep wisdom about him, and by the end of the trip, Glenys had developed a great deal of respect for the man.

Although Glenys was certain all members of the caravan were more than capable of defending themselves, protection for the group was mainly provided by a woman named Khayla. She wore steel armor and was brusque and quiet. Constantly alert and extremely stealthy, she confessed to Glenys one night when they sat by the fire alone that she had been a thief before meeting Ri'saad and taking the job as the caravan's warrior.

Atahbah, like Ri'saad, was a merchant. She handled most of the face-to-face business dealings when it came to customer's purchasing goods from the traders. Though she and Ri'saad did not refer to each other in any way that would lead a stranger to believe they were more than simply traveling companions, it was clear from the noises Glenys heard from the tent they shared during the late hours of the night that their relationship was more intimate than one of purely business.

The last member of the caravan was Ma'randu-jo, Ri'saad's apprentice. Glenys found him to be rude and generally unpleasant to be around, though she suspected he had developed that attitude toward those of other races because of the treatment he had experienced from the Nords while in Skyrim. Ma'randu-jo, though apprenticing as a merchant, was also an apprentice mage, and he was apparently saving up coin in hopes of being able to study for a time at the province's mage college in Winterhold.

The walls of Markarth were thick and stone with great gates in the center. The beautiful city, constructed almost entirely of stone, was built up into the mountain behind them, and rooftops and some of the higher buildings could be seen over the walls as they approached the city.

Outside the city was a farm and a stable, both built in ancient Dwemer buildings. Glenys knew that Dwemer cities had been built into mountains, the majority of the space actually located underground, but there were often a few outlying buildings for various purposes. She found herself fascinated that later settlers had utilized the ancient abandoned city as their own while most, from what she had read, still lie abandoned and barely explored. She wondered how far into the underground structures the modern city went and couldn't wait to see more of it.

After dining with the caravan at dinner, she bid farewell to her new friends and promised to check in on them later by the end of the week. Ri'saad had heard rumors that Markarth wasn't a friendly city within its walls and had offered to return her to Whiterun if she wasn't comfortable remaining there.

The guards at the gate weren't unfriendly and simply asked what her business in Markarth was. Replying that she was traveling through and looking to spend the night in the inn, they nodded and allowed her to enter the city.

Inside the gate, Glenys was greeted with a bustling city. Buildings of stone stretched skyward ahead of her, stone bridges crossed a small running brook through the center of the city, and the road was entirely made of stone as well. It was clear how the city earned its reputation as the City of Stone. A sign for the Silver-Blood Inn hung on the building closest to her, and the marketplace was nearby the gate as well, two vendor's stalls sat outside of a building with a sign reading "Arnleif and Sons Trading Company".

Glenys was looking around excitedly, trying to decide if she should immediately secure herself a room at the inn or if there was time to explore a bit before dusk when all hell broke loose.

"The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!" she heard a man yell.

Looking toward the marketplace again, she saw a tanned man with dark hair, probably of Breton descent based upon his shorter stature, dressed in the dirt-stained clothing of a miner, attack a woman, slitting her throat with a dagger.

The woman, a plainly dressed Imperial women with fair hair and fit build, was too surprised to defend herself and fell to the ground, dead. The Markarth guards were immediately on her attacker with weapon's drawn. He refused to submit, however, and attempted to fight them off, his own life ending with a sword through his abdomen.

"I die for my people," he stated weakly as he fell to the ground in a heap, the blade still in his belly.

The guardsmen immediately began to disperse the crowd gathered.

"Move along," one said, rather curtly, to Glenys.

"What was that man talking about?" she asked curiously. "Who are the Forsworn?" It was rare for her to encounter something she had never come across in her reading, even if only a brief mention of it, and while a public murder being the first event she witnessed in the strange city was certainly concerning, she was intrigued.

"The Forsworn are nothing but a bunch of madmen," he replied. "Mind your business. We have this handled."

Glenys nodded, sensing an underlying threat in his words and began to leave the area, making her way toward the nearby inn.

"Gods. A woman attacked right in the streets. Are you alright?" a man asked as he approached her. He wore simple clothes and hide bracers. His long fair hair was Nord-like, but his height and build was much more like that of a Breton. "Did you see what happened?"

"I'm fine," Glenys replied. "All I heard was something about the Forsworn, and then that man killed a woman. The guards killed him."

"The Forsworn? Strange," he replied. "Well, for what it's worth, I hope the Eight give you more peace in the future."

Glenys chuckled. "You don't know the half of it. Do you know anything about the attack?"

"No," he replied quickly. "I was just getting some air. Had one too many pints at the Silver-Blood Inn. Uh, here," he stated passing her a piece of folded paper. "I believe you dropped this. Looks like some kind of note. I thought it could be important."

Glenys started to say it wasn't hers, but something about the look in the man's eyes told her not to. "Thank you," she replied simply and watched as he walked away.

The Silver-Blood Inn was a busy place and because of it inhabiting an ancient Dwemer structure, it was quite unlike any inn Glenys had ever visited before. She approached the counter in the center of the room where a Nord man with balding gray-blonde hair, a matching beard, and a stern expression greeted her brusquely.

"Welcome to the Silver-Blood Inn. We have plenty of good food and drinks and clean rooms. What can I get you?"

"Do you own this inn?" Glenys asked curiously.

"Nope, just keep it," he replied. "Name's Kleppr. The inn, and most of the city, is owned by the Silver-Blood family. Hence the name. Now, what can I get you? If I can't get you anything, chances are my wife will bellow at me until I can."

"Um, well, I'd like a room," Glenys replied. She found the man's general demeanor rather disconcerting and was surprised at his lack of chattiness. Most innkeepers were full of smalltalk and rumors for their guests.

"That's ten septims for the night. Fifty for a full week," he replied.

"I'll just take one night for now," Glenys replied. Though she knew she'd be in the city for at least a week, her sister Elain had been carrying most of the siblings' combined money, and she only had a small amount on herself.

Kleppr accepted her payment and showed her to her room, located on the left down a corrider. The door to the small room was on the left. "Give a holler if you need anything."

Glenys thanked him and looked around the room. It was quite small and consisted of a stone table built into one wall, a rickety wooden chair pulled up to it, and a stone bed built into another. She'd read that in Markarth even the beds were made of stone and apparently that had not been an exaggeration.

She sat down on the bed, which was surprisingly soft because of the furs atop it, and pulled out the note the man in the marketplace had handed her.

 _Meet me at the Shrine of Talos tonight at midnight._

Glenys had no idea where the shrine was nor why this man would want to meet her, a complete stranger, there, but her inquisitive nature wouldn't allow her to ignore it. She returned to the counter and approached Kleppr who looked up at her expectantly.

"Could you tell me where the Shrine of Talos is located in the city?"

He looked surprised at the question, probably especially considering it was coming from an Altmer, but answered her anyway. "It's underneath the Temple of Dibella," he replied, "in the big crag in the center of the city."

She thanked him and returned to her room, appreciating the fact that he hadn't asked any questions. If she had learned anything about the citizens of Markarth in her short time there already, it was that they seemed to be very private.


	3. Trouble in Markarth

Chapter Three: Trouble in Markarth (Loredas, 23rd of Last Seed)

Glenys found the Shrine of Talos through a bronze door located right where Kleppr said it would be. A ramp led down further into the ground, and a statue of the Nord god stood in the center of the room which was quite empty. No priests or priestesses wandered around, no parishoners or pilgrims kneeled in prayer. Glenys knew of the civil war raging Skyrim, and she knew that Markarth was under Imperial control, meaning the worship of Talos was outlawed. She was actually quite surprised the shrine hadn't been destroyed or locked up tight and wondered if this hold's Jarl was lax on that particular law.

She stood, staring up at the immense stone statue when she heard the door close behind her. She turned quickly, looking up the ramp, and saw the familiar man from the market approaching her.

"I'm really glad you came," he said with a friendly smile. "I wasn't certain you would." He glanced around the room nervously. "I waited outside until you had been here a few minutes. I wanted to make sure you hadn't been followed."

Glenys frowned. "What's going on? Who would have followed me? Why did you want me to meet you here? Who are you?"

The man held up his hand to stop her barrage of questions. "I'll answer all your questions. My name is Eltrys, for starters. And you are?"

"Glenys," she replied.

"Well, Glenys, I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems," Eltrys apologized, "but after the attack on the market, I'm running out of time. I need your help. Markarth needs your help."

"Why me?" she wondered.

"You're an outsider. Curiosity would seem more natural coming from you," he replied. "People in this city tend to keep to themselves and aren't too open to others digging into their business. Plus, you seemed curious after the attack. I heard you questioning one of the guards. If you want answers, you're not going to get any from them."

"I was curious," Glenys admitted. "Entering a city for the very first time and witnessing a public murder within the first few minutes certainly raises a lot of questions. And frankly, I'm a scholar. I consider myself to be fairly informed on most topics, but I had never heard that word before - Forsworn."

"You want answers, so do I. So does everyone in the city," Eltrys replied, his voice full of frustration and fear. He glanced nervously toward the door and then met her eyes again. "A man goes crazy in the market. Murders a woman. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent. And the guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess."

"You're implying there's a conspiracy here," Glenys replied. "How do I know you're not just paranoid? And even if you're not, why should I get involved?"

"You want to walk away?" Eltrys asked. "Fine. But there's never going to be any justice for that poor woman. No one to care about what happened to her."

"Alright, look, I didn't say I was walking away or didn't want to help," Glenys replied, crossing her arms, "but I have no idea what's going on or what you're talking about. Do you mean this isn't the first that something like this has happened?"

"This has been going on for years," Eltrys explained, "and all I've ever been able to find is murder and blood. They say the Forsworn are only in the hills, that there's no danger in the city, but it's pretty clear that's a lie. I need help. Please. Find out why that woman was attacked, why it was Weylin that did it, who is behind the Forsworn in the city, and I'll pay you for any information you bring me."

"You've looked into these murders?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "It all started when I was a boy. My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn't a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew his murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since. I've gotten nowhere so far, and then I got married. Have a child of my own on the way. I swore I was going to give up, for my child's sake, but it's like my father's ghost is haunting me, asking me 'why?', and besides, do I really want my child growing up in a city that isn't safe?"

"Who are the Forsworn?"

"They're remnants of the old rulers of Markarth," he answered. "This city was built by the Dwemer and left empty for a time, but before the Nords arrived, Bretons had settled here. They were native to this area. Some of the descendants, like my father's family, acclimated after the Nords conquered, but there are those who never did. They still follow the old ways, the old religion. They reclaimed the city but were driven out by Ulfric Stormcloak and his men about twenty years ago. Everyone in power claims they were driven to the surrounding mountains, but somehow they're still here in the city. Still killing people."

"Who was the man that commited the murder today? Weylin, you said?"

"He was one of the smelter workers," Eltrys replied. "I used to have a job down there myself, casting silver ingots. I never knew much about Weylin except he lived in the Warrens, like most of the other workers."

"Alright, and the woman he killed? What do you know about her?"

"Her name was Margret," he answered. "She wasn't from the city. The air about her screamed 'outsider'. I'm not certain, but chances are she was renting a room at the inn."

Glenys nodded. She'd start there. Since she was already staying at the inn anyway, it seemed like the best place to begin her investigation.

"So you're going to help?" Eltrys asked, looking relieved.

She nodded again. "I'll look into who Margret was first. Where can I find you when I have the information?"

"I'll wait here for you every night at midnight," he replied. "When you discover something useful, meet me here."

* * *

Breakfast at the inn was a boisterous affair, although still more subdued than it had been at The Bannered Mare in Whiterun. People in Markarth were not nearly as social or friendly, and Glenys sat alone at a small table near the door.

After eating, she secured her room for another night, resigning herself to finding some sort of work later that day because her coin was running low. Although if Eltrys was willing to pay her for information on Margret . . .

Glenys suspected she wouldn't get any information from the innkeeper, so she, instead, approached his wife, Frabbi. She was a tired-looking woman of middle-age, and from what the elf had observed, she and Kleppr had a horrible marriage. They bickered and fought publicly. She was constantly nagging him, and he would speak to her harshly and had nothing nice to say about her to his patrons. But Glenys had seen her with their children, a son and a daughter, both young adults, probably sixteen or seventeen years of age, and she was a nurturing mother and obviously had a strong sense of family. Glenys planned to play on that soft spot in an attempt to get information.

"Is everything alright?" the woman asked when Glenys approached her. "I'll bend Kleppr's ear if there's anything wrong with your room."

The elf shook her head. "My room is lovely," she replied with a smile, "and breakfast was delicious."

The woman smiled and thanked her for the compliment. "I do most of the cooking myself," she told her, "though my daughter, Hroki, helps a bit."

"I was actually wondering if you knew anything about that woman who was killed in the market yesterday," Glenys stated. "It happened right after I arrived. I saw the whole thing, and I just haven't been able to get that poor woman off my mind ever since."

"Not much," Frabbi replied. "Folks keep to themselves around here for the most part. Her name was Margret, and she was renting a room here. Rented the nicest room in the place for a whole month! She must've come from money. Poor girl. Best we all forget about her. It's bad luck to talk about death in Markarth."

"Do you have the key to her room by any chance?"

"I do, but I can't just hand that over to anyone," she replied with a frown. "Privacy, after all."

"I just thought, since no one seems to know where she came from, maybe I could find something in her room that would tell us. If she's got a family, they'll never know what happened to her. I just . . . I can't imagine. What if she had children?" Glenys lied, though it wasn't too far off base. She figured when she was finished with all this, if she had found out where Margret was from, she'd send some sort of death notice to her family.

Frabbi frowned and sighed. "I hadn't thought of that." She glanced around, most likely checking to see if her husband was watching. "You look like the honest sort, and you're a dear to care so much for a stranger's family." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key ring, removing one from it and passing it to Glenys. "Her room is at the top of the stairs down the same hallway as yours," she told her. "Bring me the key back when you're finished."

Glenys thanked her with a friendly smile and made her way to Margret's room.

* * *

Margret's room was much like her own, just a bit larger with some ornate decorations and additional furniture.

Glenys searched through the room. It was clear from her possessions that Margret had indeed been of some wealth. The Altmer woman pocketed a coin purse she found. After all, the woman was dead, and eventually the innkeeper would take it for himself when they got the room ready to rent out again. She figured, considering her circumstances, she was more in need of it at the moment.

Her jackpot of information came when she found what appeared to be a journal. In it, Margret had written enough for Glenys to put together that she was an Imperial agent of some sort who was in Markarth looking into the deed for Cidhna Mine. The Imperials wanted to buy it, or possibly even steal it, and were suspicious of where exactly all the money at Markarth Treasury House was going. Margret was investigating the Silver-Blood family from the looks of it. There wasn't any family mentioned, however, nor any talk of missing home.

Leaving the room the way she found it, aside from the coin purse and journal, she returned the key to Frabbi and set out to explore the city.

Glenys' first stop was the general merchandise store, Arnlief and Sons Trading Company, located in the marketplace. She needed a couple of extra dresses, considering the only one she had was the one she had been wearing, and it was looking rather ragged. She didn't expect to garner much respect in the city wearing rags.

Like the rest of Markarth, the store was located in an old Dwemer structure and, therefore, unlike any other store she had ever done business in.

Glenys was pulled from her distracted gazing about at the architecture by the woman behind the counter. "You there. If you have something to trade, step up to the counter." The woman was clearly a Nord, though her hair was darker than most of her race. She wore a simple dress and hat, and like nearly everyone else the elf had encountered in the city, her demeanor didn't feel welcoming nor friendly. "Arnleif and Sons Trading Company buys and sells anything you wandering types need."

Glenys looked down at herself self-consciously, not really certain why the woman assumed she was a wanderer, although it was obvious she was an outsider to the city, and she did look a bit worse for wear. Hopefully, a new dress or two would remedy that. She stepped up to the counter, but before she could say anything, the woman spoke again.

"Before you ask, no, my name is not Arnleif," she stated, "and yes, I'm aware the store is called Arnleif and Sons."

Glenys raised an eyebrow, curious as to why the woman felt the need to clarify that. "Who is Arnleif?" she asked.

"My late father-in-law," the woman replied. "He opened this shop and ran it with his two sons, my husband and his elder brother. My brother-in-law was killed about five years ago, and my Gunnar just last year. I've ran the shop alone ever since."

"I'm sorry for your losses," Glenys offered, not really certain what else to say.

"If it looks like we don't have what you're looking for, just ask," she replied. "I am Lisbet, and my assistants are Imedhnain and Cosnach. We keep a lot of our stock in the back. People have sticky fingers around here."

"I'm looking for a new dress or two," the elf explained. "I've been traveling, and this one isn't exactly the most pleasing thing to look at any longer."

"Of course," Lisbet replied. She walked to a locked dresser near the back, opening it with a key, and pulled out a stack of dresses she laid on the counter. "Take your pick."

Choosing two simple dresses, one in blue and one in green, she handed Lisbet her payment, and couldn't help but notice the woman looked almost relieved to be receiving it.

"This shop is struggling, isn't it?" Glenys questioned. Though it probably wasn't her place, she had a tendency to give voice to whatever thoughts came to mind.

"Oh, by the Divines, is it the obvious?" Lisbet asked. "I swear, if my Gunnar were alive to see me now . . . he was killed by the Forsworn, you know. I miss the stubborn oaf." She sighed. "I've struggled a bit since his death, but I swear we'd be back on our feet if I hadn't lost my last shipment to bandits. A specially-made Dibella statue for the temple. The gold I was to receive for that would've given us more profit than we've seen in the last year combined. You aren't for hire, are you? A sellsword or adventurer? I'd pay you in gold if you were able to retrieve that statue from those bandits. I'm told that particular group makes their home at Dragon Bridge Overlook, on the road to Solitude."

Glenys shrugged. She wasn't a sellsword by any means, but she was decent at defending herself with a dagger and knew enough of destruction magicka to take on a group of bandits. "I suppose I could take a look for you, see if it's there."

"Oh thank you," Lisbet replied. "That statue will finally give us the break we need to not be barely surviving any longer."

"You said your husband was killed by the Forsworn?"

"Aye, his brother, too."

"Did you hear about the attack in the market yesterday?"

Lisbet sighed, and the fear was evident in her eyes. "I did. Awful business, that. As if trade wasn't poor enough because folks are afraid to travel outside the walls, now there's violence in the streets as well. If only the guards weren't so wrapped up in this damn war, maybe they could actually grant the citizens a bit of safety."

"Did you know anything about the woman who was killed?" Glenys asked.

Lisbet shook her head. "She came into the store a time or two. Bought some lockpicks once, and the other time she just looked around. But we didn't speak much."

Glenys nodded and thanked her for the dresses. The woman thanked her for her business and wished her luck if she decided to take a trip to Dragon Bridge Overlook.

Outside, the marketplace was busy. Aside from the blood stain on the stone, there was no hint of the violence that had taken place there just the day before. One of the stalls appeared to sell fresh game, which Glenys had no need for, but the other appeared to sell jewelry and ornaments. It was manned by a Redguard woman who was, undoubtedly, the most friendly looking person she had seen since arriving in the city.

"The finest jewelry in all of Markarth," she stated as Glenys approached her. "Redguard craftsmenship in every piece." She smiled at her newest customer. "Are you looking for something for a friend? Or, perhaps, a lover?"

Glenys chuckled. "No, not really, though your pieces are beautiful. Silver?"

The woman nodded. "My husband Endon is a silversmith. He's teaching our daughter, Adara, the craft. She's going to be the finest silversmith in all of Skyrim one day," she stated proudly. "I am Kerah. You're new to our city, yes?"

"I am," the elf replied. "I only just arrived here yesterday. Imagine my shock when the first thing I saw was a murder in the marketplace."

Kerah frowned. "I'm sorry you had to see that. It was awful. He . . . he killed her. Right in front of me." She was obviously still quite shaken. "I can't imagine why anyone would have wanted to kill Margret. She was such a nice woman."

"Did you know her well?" Glenys asked.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "She was just a customer. Came by every so often looking for gifts to take home to her family in Cyrodiil. I don't know why Weylin would have killed her. Because she was a noble? It couldn't have been with the intent to rob her because there were so many witnesses. It just doesn't make sense."

"I heard it was the Forsworn," Glenys answered.

Kerah visibly shuddered.

"What can you tell me about Markarth?" Glenys asked, deciding to change the subject.

"My family came here ages ago," Kerah replied. "We've made a good living smithing the silver that flows through the city. It's been our home, but with the violence . . ." again, she shuddered. "I suppose you're curious about all the fancy architecture though, hm? The carvings and stonework? Most travelers are. The court wizard, Calcelmo, is a bit of an expert on all that. You should talk to him."

"I think I will do that," Glenys replied with a smile. "It really is fascinating."

"He can be a bit difficult," Kerah explained, "always caught up with his work and what not. But he's a good man and always happy to discuss the city and the ruins it's built on. Here," she passed Glenys a ring. "He asked me to make this ring for him but keeps forgetting to come and get it. I haven't had the time to make a delivery, so perhaps, if you're headed up to the keep to talk to him anyway, you could take it to him? I'm sure he'd appreciate it, and it would serve as a good opening to start a discussion with the busy man."

"Of course," Glenys replied, tucking the ring into her coin purse for safe keeping. "I'm happy to help."

* * *

Understone Keep, home of the Jarl of The Reach, was housed in a colossal Dwemer structure. The large doorway had tall stone columns surrounding it and a rushing waterfall on one side, flowing down from higher in the mountain and feeding the stream that rolled through the city.

Upon entering, Glenys was surprised to see the ruin. It didn't look like much more than a cave with rubble and collapsed architecture scattered about, but as she walked further into the keep, the ruins were much more preserved, and the grandeur of the Dwemer architecture could be seen. Great stone steps stretched ahead of her, but she was distracted by arguing nearby.

A Nord man dressed as a warrior in rich armor and a priest, most likely a priest of Arkay judging by the color of his robes, were in the midst of a heated discussion. It sounded as though, for some unknown reason, the Hall of the Dead was closed to citizens, and this man, who was apparently of some importance within the community, was enraged by that. Choosing not to get involved, Glenys approached one of the guards at the bottom of the steps and quietly asked where she might find the court wizard.

"At this time of day, most likely outside the ruins," the guard replied with a nod to his right.

Glenys looked in that direction, a left turn from the entrance to the keep, and carefully made her way across the uneven terrain. This area of the building was quite destroyed as well, but it opened into an immense cavern. A small lake and stream flowed through it, and the familiar bronze Dwemer doors could be seen across a stone bridge at the far side of the cavern. Beside the stream, near a small Dwemer construction, stood a man in mage robes bent over an alchemy table.

"Excuse me," Glenys stated politely, approaching the man. "Are you Calcelmo?"

The mage turned, allowing Glenys to see his face, and she realized he was a fellow Altmer. "What are you doing here?" he asked, rather brusquely. "This excavation site is closed, and I am not in need of any more workers or guards."

Glenys was surprised by his cool greeting, or lack thereof, although she probably shouldn't have been. He seemed to be just another example of a typical citizen of Markarth. Her interest was peaked as soon as she heard 'excavation site'. She hadn't been aware of active research in Markarth, but now she was extremely intrigued and wanted to know more. She gathered it was something Dwemer related. "Excavation site?" she asked excitedly.

"Nchuand-Zel?" he replied, as if he were appalled that she hadn't heard of it. "The ruins underneath Markarth? The wealth of artifacts that I've based two human lifetimes of work on? Now you still haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

"Um, I was looking for you, actually," she replied.

"I told you I'm not hiring anyone else," he stated. "Why do people always insist upon bothering me when I'm trying to finish my research?"

Glenys opened her mouth to speak, to explain why she was interrupting, but he interrupted before she'd uttered a sound.

"You idiot!" he cried. "Do you even know who I am? Only the most recognized researcher of the Dwemer in all of Tamriel, and you people keep bothering me!" Glenys' look of shock must have made him realize how inappropriately he was acting because his voice softened. "I . . . I'm sorry. I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very stressful work, and I shouldn't have yelled. I truly do apologize. How may I help you?"

"I have a delivery for you from Kerah at the marketplace," Glenys answered, pulling out the ring and passing it to him.

"Oh, that's right. I keep forgetting to pick that up," Calcelmo commented, taking the ring and studying it. "Poor Kerah. Such a patient woman. And so talented. Now, you're supposed to get something for your trouble, yes? How about some gold? People seem to like that, I've noticed." He passed Glenys a few septims from the pocket of his robe and began to turn back to his work.

"Why do you need guards?" she asked curiously. Despite his earlier rudeness, she was not ready to end her conversation with this fascinating man.

"To protect my research, for one," Calcelmo replied. "There are many cutthroat scholars out there who would steal my work and take the credit for it. And the excavations into Nchuand-Zel are dangerous. Dwemer machines and traps still function even after thousands of years!" The passion he had for his research was clear to Glenys, and she wanted to know more.

"So you are researching the Dwemer, obviously."

"Yes," Calcelmo answered. "Their history, architecture, and culture is all around us in Markarth." He swept his hand around, highlighting the architecture in the cavern. "A race of stonecutters, artisans, and engineers. They invented machines and built elaborate underground cities where they researched powers to rival the gods themselves! Then, for reasons we are still unsure of, they disappeared. All of them. An entire race of people all at once! All that is left of them are their works."

"I've done quite a lot of reading on the Dwemer," Glenys told him. "Some of your books, in fact. They fascinate me. I've only just arrived in Skyrim, and this is the first I've gotten to see one of their cities with my own eyes."

Calcelmo beamed at the young woman. "Markarth is beautiful, yes, and seems quite large, but like all Dwemer cities, what is seen on the surface is very small in comparison to the portions of the cities that stretch beneath the mountains. Massive communities, all underground! And they say that several of the cities open into a mysterious area known as Blackreach, which is essentially a whole other plane of existence, right beneath our feet! Spanning across much of Skyrim."

"Fascinating!" Glenys commented in awe. "I would love to talk with you more when you have the time. I don't want to keep you from your research."

"Thank you, child." Calcelmo seemed deep in thought for a moment and then reached into his pocket. "I don't often do this, but here is a key to my Dwemer museum. It isn't open to the public yet, not until I finish my current research, but I would very much love for a young scholar such as yourself to go have a look around."

"Thank you so much," Glenys replied, taking the key and tucking it into her coin purse. "It would be honor to look at your collection."

"I'd happily let you wander about the excavation site as well, but I'm afraid we've reached a bit of a standstill there," Calcelmo explained. "There's a giant frostbite spider who has made her home in the ruins. My workers call her Nimhe, the poisoned one. She's killed many guards and a few workers. Unfortunately I just can't seem to find someone skilled enough to get rid of her for me, and until that is done, I'm afraid, we're unable to go any further into the ruins. If you happen to know anyone, or meet anyone, who would like to take on a giant arachnid and receive some gold in payment, do send them my way."

"I will," Glenys replied, wishing her siblings were there. She had no doubt Aerenwen, and probably Elain, would happily take on the beast.

"Well, then, I've work to do," Calcelmo stated. "Enjoy the museum and do come back and tell me what you thought of it."

Glenys promised she would and made her way out of the keep.


	4. The Warrens

Chapter Four: The Warrens (Sundas, 24th of Last Seed)

Eltrys was already waiting at the shrine when Glenys arrived at midnight. He paced nervously at the foot of the stone statue and seemed relieved when he saw her.

"Margret was from Cyrodiil," Glenys explained, getting right to business. "I found her journal in her room at the inn, and it appears she was some sort of agent for the Empire. She was here by order of General Tullius to investigate the Silver-Bloods and Markarth Treasury House in order to procure Cidhna Mine for the Imperials in whatever way necessary."

"What on Nirn could that have to do with the Forsworn?" Eltrys wondered aloud.

Glenys shrugged.

"Thonar Silver-Blood has his hands in everything else in the city. Perhaps he has something to do with this as well," Eltrys commented. "Anything else? Do you know how Weylin is involved? Do you think the two things are even connected?" the man pressed.

"No idea," she answered. "I haven't looked into him yet. I started with Margret since I am staying at the inn as well, and I didn't want to ask too many questions in one day. Everyone in this city is already suspicious toward me."

Eltrys nodded. "The people of Markarth are not generally fond of outsiders."

Glenys let out a small grunt of agreement. "I've noticed," she muttered.

* * *

The next morning as Glenys left the Silver-Blood Inn, she was approached by a rather unfriendly looking guard.

"I've heard you've been snooping around into matters that are none of your concern," he stated. "We don't take kindly to outsiders putting their noses into our business, and if it continues, we will have a problem. Understood?"

She simply nodded and watched as the guard walked away. If she knew what was good for her, Glenys would pack up and leave Markarth. She was garnering negative attention. That was never good, and it definitely went against the family's plan. They were supposed to blend in, avoid unecessary attention, and hopefully avoid being detected by the Thalmor.

But, much like her siblings, Glenys didn't always act as was best for her. Stubborness was a family trait, and she was too far into this now. She needed to see it through. The citizens of Markarth were the way they were because they didn't trust anyone, and how could they ever trust anyone if the people in charge were putting them in danger just to increase their own wealth? From what she had discovered so far, it looked like something like that was exactly what was going on in the city. She still had no idea what the Forsworn had to do with the Silver-Blood family. In actuality, Weylin could've just been making a random killing for the Forsworn to send a message, and it was just a coincidence that the victim ended up being an Imperial agent investigating the Silver-Bloods. But Glenys' instincts told her otherwise, and threats from the guards or not, she wasn't giving up. She . . . Eltrys . . . all of Markarth needed answers, and she wasn't giving up until she got them.

The entrance to Cidhna Mine was located inside the city with a smelter set up outside. Glenys found it fairly easily and stood watching the workers for a few moments. They looked exhausted, too thin, and extremely dirty. Several stopped their work to cough every few moments, and Glenys frowned as she saw another vomit behind a rock. These people were overworked, underfed, and just in all around poor condition. It was a horrible thing to see, and Glenys wanted to help them.

"You're not one of my workers," a deep, stern voice commented, interrupting her thoughts. "What are you doing here?" A huge orc stood glaring at her, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"I'm just looking around," Glenys replied, slightly intimidated by the large man.

"Looking around?" he replied angrily. "I oversee this smelter, and we're already behind on our silver quota. You're causing a distraction, so I suggest you look around somewhere else."

"You own this smelter?" Glenys asked.

"Are you hard of hearing? I said I oversee this smelter," he replied. "Thonar Silver-Blood owns it, just like everything else in Markarth. I just keep the workers in line."

"Did you know Weylin?" she asked.

"Sure did," he answered. "He was a hard worker. Bastard could have at least waited to go crazy until after we met our quota."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I don't make a habit of getting to know the workers. We all just mind our own business and do our work. All I know is he lived in the Warrens, just like most of the riff-raff around here."

"Did you notice anything unusual about him before the attack?" Glenys asked.

The orc sighed. "If I answer your questions, will you go away?"

She nodded.

"Alright. Look, I did notice the last time I handed out pay that there was an extra slip of paper with Weylin's. A note or something. He didn't read it in front of me, so I couldn't tell you what was in it, and it wasn't any of my business to go digging around. But I noticed because they don't usually pass out anything with the wages. It had to have come from someone higher up."

"Who pays the workers?" Glenys asked.

"Well, like I said, Thonar Silver-Blood owns the mine, so it comes from him," he answered, "but Nepos the Nose handles most of the dealings with the workers, so the wages are handed out by him."

"Do you know if there is a way I could get into Weylin's room and have a look around?"

"I don't know why you'd want to," the orc answered, "but you'd have to talk to Garvey. He hands out the keys to the rooms in the Warrens."

Glenys thanked him for the information and made her way across the stone bridge to the entrance of the Warrens.

The Warrens were dark, dirty, and deplorable. Glenys couldn't imagine anyone making people live there. It was an almost completely ruined Dwemer structure. The floor was littered with rubble, and the air smelled stale and unhealthy.

A man stood against a column near the entrance, filthy and wearing rags. "The Warrens isn't a place for your type," he commented, looking Glenys up and down. "What do you want?"

"Are you Garvey?" she asked.

"I am," he replied, stopping to cough into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you know Weylin?" Glenys asked.

"Sure did," he replied. "I know everyone who sleeps in the Warrens. I'm sort of the one who hands out the keys. I imagine someone else will be looking to move into his room soon."

"What exactly is this place?" Glenys wondered.

"It's where you go when you can't afford a room anywhere else," Garvey replied. "About the time they opened the mine, someone got the idea to throw some beds in here. Now it's the place the destitute of Markarth call home. The poor, the sick, the elderly who never made enough to save up and can't work anymore."

"The city doesn't help their people at all?"

Garvey chuckled dryly. "Welcome to Markarth, stranger. Be glad you're blessed with the luxury of choosing to live somewhere else. The mines pay so little, its workers may as well be unemployed, and we don't have a temple to aid the sick or even a healer. The alchemist shop wants too much coin for remedies and healing potions. A lot of folks come here to die, I'm afraid."

Glenys rummaged through her satchel and pulled out a half dozen or so viles of the healing potion her sister Mari had made before they left Auridon. "Here," she said, handing them to the man. "Use one yourself and hand the rest to whoever needs them most. It's all I have to help."

Garvey looked shocked. "Thank you. I . . . I don't . . . we're not used to seeing such kindness in the city. These will be put to good use, I assure you." He smiled and opened one of the viles to drink himself. "Now, what brought you down here? And why are you asking about Weylin?"

"I'm looking into the market attack the other day," she answered.

"You have a death wish?" he asked with some sarcasm.

"No," she replied, "although I've already been warned off by a rather unfriendly guard. I just . . . I'm new here, and I know it probably isn't any of my business, but I'd like to find out who is behind this. Why someone like Weylin would choose to attack someone in that manner. He had to know he wouldn't leave that market alive."

Garvey nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "This is to Weylin's room. Last one on the right. Be careful, stranger. I'm glad to see someone in the city who is interested in truth and kindness, but you'll find not everyone feels the way I do. Blood and silver run our city, have for years, and anyone who is trying to change that probably won't be looked upon very kindly by those who profit from it."

Glenys thanked him for the warning, and the key, and carefully made her way through the rubble and filth toward Weylin's room.

Like the rest of the Warren's, the dead man's room was full of dirt and collapsed stonework. A pile of hay lay in one corner with a ragged blanket on top of it. A table with a broken leg rested upon one of the large boulders in order to stand upright. A moldy piece of bread and empty bottle of ale sat on top of it. A chest tucked in amongst some of the rubble had a broken lock. Glenys opened it, finding some ragged clothes, a few bottles of ale, and what she assumed was the note the orc had mentioned.

 _Weylin,_

 _You've been chosen to strike fear into the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do._

 _\- N_

So Weylin had been ordered to kill, and judging from the statement about the Nords, it came from someone higher up in rank amongst Forsworn followers. He wasn't acting on his own. But this didn't answer the question as to whether or not Margret was targeted or just a coincidence.

Glenys tucked the note into the pocket of her dress and made her way back outside. She returned the key to Garvey and took a deep breath of fresh air when she stepped into the sunlight again.

She had almost made it back to the inn when a large Breton man blocked her path.

"You've been digging around where you don't belong," he growled, raising his fists. "It's time you were taught a lesson."

Glenys darted out of the way, just barely missing the right hook aimed for her jaw. She was by no means equipped to defend herself in a brawl with a man of this size and had no idea how far he would take it. Did he just want to hurt her to teach her a lesson, or did he aim to kill her and get her out of the way?

She wasn't quick enough to dodge the next punch which landed right in her gut. She bent over, arms around her waist, coughing and attempting to catch her breath as the man had knocked the wind out of her.

"Where I come from, a man doesn't attack an unarmed woman," a deep voice stated.

Glenys heard punches and grunts, and when she finally was able to stand upright again, she saw that someone had come to her aid.

The stranger was an attractive man with long brown hair and rust-colored war paint in intricate swirl patterns on his face. He wore a beautiful set of horned scale armor that Glenys knew Aerenwen would've been impressed with, and he clearly had the upper hand over the thug who had attacked her.

The fight ended when the thug kneeled on the ground, groaning and spitting blood, obviously bested by her savior.

"Why did you attack this woman?" her rescuer asked, still poised to strike if necessary.

"I was hired by someone who doesn't like her asking so many questions," he replied weakly.

"Who?" Glenys asked.

The man laughed but didn't answer.

"You'll answer the lady's question," the other man ordered, kicking the thug in his shoulder and causing him to fall onto his back on the stone ground.

"Nepos!" he replied, looking terrified of the man who was towering over him. "The old man hands out the orders and wanted you out of the way. That's all I know, I swear!"

Glenys remembered the smelter overseer mentioning a Nepos the Nose, and with Weylin's note signed 'N', she gathered this Nepos had given the dead man his orders as well. "Who does Nepos work for?"

"The Silver-Bloods," the man replied. "But he's a Forsworn."

"Anything else you need from him?" the man who had saved her asked.

She shook her head.

"Alright, get out of here," he told the thug. "If I ever catch you picking on a defenseless person again, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

The thug nodded and ran away.

"Thank you," Glenys told her savior who she couldn't help but notice had the most beautiful bright blue eyes she had ever seen. "I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't come along."

"Are you alright?" the man asked, placing a comforting hand on her upper arm.

She nodded. "Yeah, a bit sore, but I'll be fine," she answered. "I'm Glenys." She extended her right hand while her left held the sore spot on her stomach.

"Vorstag," the man replied, accepting her handshake. "I've seen you at the inn. New in town and already upsetting the wrong people," he commented with a chuckle.

Glenys smirked. "I seem to be good at that."

"Well, if you ever need some muscle to back up your questions, I'm usually at the inn," Vorstag answered. "Some people call me a mercenary, a sellsword, but I like to think of myself as an adventurer for hire." He grinned, and Glenys found the man extremely attractive.

"Uh, here, let me give you some coin for your help," she offered, reaching for her purse.

He held up his hand. "Not necessary. You needed help, and I was there. No payment necessary for rescuing a damsel in distress."

Glenys laughed.

"Allow me to escort you the rest of the way to the inn."

She nodded, accepting the offer and pleased to have finally found an ally in this unfriendly city.

* * *

Although Vorstag wouldn't accept payment for his assistance, Glenys was able to talk him into allowing her to treat him to dinner at the inn that night. She discovered along with being handsome and charming, the Nord warrior had a witty sense of humor and jolly disposition. He told her tales of his adventures.

"I grew up here," he explained, "but my folks were killed by the Forsworn when I was barely old enough to earn a living. I worked in the mines for a few years before I befriended an old skald named Ogmund." He nodded toward the bard playing a flute in the corner across the room. "He took me in and trained me. I traveled Skyrim with him for years, and when he was ready to retire, I kept going. I've only just returned to Markarth a few weeks ago to check in on the old man, but I'm finding work hard to come by. I may need to move on to earn my living."

"I have a job you may be interested in," Glenys offered. "The shopkeeper, Lisbet?"

He nodded to show he knew who she was referring to.

"She recently had a specially-ordered Dibella statue stolen by a group of bandits," she explained. "She told me their camp is at Dragon's Bridge Overlook, or something like that. Offered quite a bit of gold for its return."

He thanked her for the information and told her just may look into that. "What brings you to Markarth?" he asked.

Feeling like she could trust him, and not having anyone else to confide in, she decided she could reveal some of her story. "My family and I are fugitives fleeing the Thalmor," she replied. "My siblings and I fled to Skyrim per my father's orders. He and my mother were set to be executed when we left, but we weren't able to free them, despite our attempt. My father's brother, Borir, was a skald," she stated. "That's the right term, right? Like Ogmund? A mercenary and a bard?"

Vorstag nodded.

"We were separated near the border, and I didn't have any luck in finding them. We were supposed to meet in Helgen," she explained, "but it was destroyed by a dragon."

"A dragon!? You can't be serious."

"Afraid so," she replied. "I didn't see it myself, but it was the talk of Whiterun when I left there. I befriended some Khajiit traders and traveled with their caravan here. I'm a bit of a scholar, I suppose you could say. I've never excelled at fighting or magicka like some of my siblings, but I'm fascinated by history, and the idea of exploring a city built atop Dwemer ruins wasn't an opportunity I could turn down."

Vorstag smiled. "And how did you get involved in this mess with the marketplace murder?"

Glenys shrugged. "A lack of self-preservation, stubborness, and a dangerous amount of curiosity?"

Vorstag laughed, and Glenys giggled.

"Be careful, Glenys," he stated. "I fear you're digging into the business of some dangerous men, but I get the impression I can't talk you out of it."

"Probably not," she replied with a smirk. "What do you know about Nepos the Nose?"

"He works for the Silver-Bloods," he replied. "He's well-liked not only by the Nords but also by the natives of the Reach. He's a relative to the Forsworn, one of the few who chose to stay in the city after Ulfric and his men drove them out. I assumed, like many I'm sure, that he no longer had ties to the Forsworn, but if he was the one that gave Weylin the order to strike, I'm guessing that's not true after all. He's got connections, Glenys," he added. "Like I said, be careful. And if you need some help, or a bodyguard, you know where to find me. I'm happy to help."


	5. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Five: The Calm Before the Storm (Morndas, 25th of Last Seed)

Eltrys was shocked to hear that Nepos the Nose was involved in the conspiracy. "He's been in Markarth forever," he stated. "Everyone likes him. I never would have guessed he would have been involved in this." He read over Weylin's note again. "I would suspect that although Nepos gives the orders to people like Weylin, he's getting his orders from someone else."

Glenys agreed.

"It looks like the clues all point to the Treasury House," Eltrys continued. "First, the mention of the Silver-Bloods in Margret's journal, now this. I think I'd continue your search there. My wife, Rhiada, works there. She could help you get in. I'll talk to her and get back to you with a plan tomorrow night." He sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I heard you've run into some trouble."

Glenys shrugged. "A bit, but I had some help," she replied. "And if the conspiracy runs as deep as we're discovering it to, it means everyone is involved. The guards, the people that hold the most wealth in Markarth . . . maybe even the Jarl. I owe it to the innocent people of this city to keep going. And besides," she added with a grin, "I don't have anything else to do."

Eltrys chuckled. "Well, whether the people of Markarth realize you're helping them or not, I, for one, am grateful. Especially if the Silver-Bloods are truly involved in this. Rhiada has worked with them for some time, and they pay her well. It's thanks to her income, I was able to get out of the Warrens. I barely make enough at the mine to support us. But she suspects there's some less than honest business dealings there, and she's growing uncomfortable with some of it. I worry for her safety and that of our unborn child."

"I'll do whatever I can to get to the bottom of this, Eltrys," Glenys promised, "and if I learn of anything that may be putting your wife in danger, you'll be the first to know."

He thanked her. "Who helped you?" he asked.

She was confused by the question.

"You said earlier when I mentioned I heard you ran into some trouble that you had some help."

"Oh, yes," she replied. "Vorstag. He came across me being attacked by a thug Nepos had hired, and he handled the situation for me. He offered to be of help in the future should I need any muscle to back up my questioning."

Eltrys smiled. "That sounds like Vorstag," he commented. "We grew up together. He's a good man. You can trust him."

* * *

Glenys was surprised, and a bit disappointed, that Vorstag wasn't in the inn when she awoke that morning. She'd given herself the day off from her investigations, waiting on word from Eltrys after he spoke with Rhiada, and had hoped to spend a bit more time with the handsome Nord who had visited her in her dreams the night before.

Instead, she decided to explore the city a bit more and pay a visit to the Dwemer museum Calcelmo had told her about.

Glenys decided first to visit her Khajiit friends outside the city. Ri'saad had told her their last day in Markarth would be Morndas the 25th, and if she wished to return to Whiterun with them, to let them know. She wasn't returning with them but did want to make sure they knew she was alright.

Ri'saad was pleased to see her, and she chose not to tell him of the trouble within the city she had involved herself in. He expected the caravan to return to Markarth in approximately two weeks, and she promised to check in with him again then.

The farm located outside of the city was run by Rogatus Salvius and his wife, Vigdis. They were an elderly couple, and Glenys couldn't help but think they should have retired in favor of having someone younger run the farm.

Vigdis was extremely friendly and welcoming. She insisted on feeding Glenys some lunch and happily accepted her help tending the crops. She told the elf if she was ever short on gold, they were always happy to pay for some help.

Rogatus was a curt old man, and Vigdis apologized for him. "Don't mind my husband," she told Glenys with a smile. "We've been married over fifty years, and he's always been a bit of a grouch. He's a good man and a hard worker."

The farm had apparently been in Vigdis' family for generations, and upon their marriage, Rogatus took it over. "We always expected our son, Leontius, to take over eventually, but he left us thirty years ago. I'm told he makes his home at Old Hroldan, though he never visits us anymore, so I can't be sure. I hope he's found a nice woman to settle down with. Maybe we have grandchildren."

"Damn drunk," Rogatus muttered nearby. "Can't even send a letter to let his mother know he's alive."

Between the farm and the city gate was the Markarth Stables. Glenys was immediately greeted by some friendly dogs as she passed by.

"Don't mind them," a man commented with a smile. "They're friendly to a fault unless you show aggression first. Then they're the fiercest war dog you could meet. Great companions."

"Do you breed them?" Glenys asked.

"Aye," he replied. "Name's Banning. My family has raised war dogs for years. You need one in The Reach. Don't want to be alone out there if a Forsworn raiding party comes across you. This one here, we call him Vigilance, is for sale right now. He's about a year old, all trained. My war dogs come highly recommended. I personally raised and trained a whole litter for the Jarl. You're not heading into the city, are you?"

"I am," Glenys replied. She knelt down and scratched Vigilance on the neck. He was a beautiful dog with slightly shaggy gray fur and bright brown eyes. He gave her an appreciative lap on the cheek.

"He likes you," Banning commented with a laugh. "Usually doesn't take to strangers so well. Anyway, if you wouldn't mind, would you deliver a fresh batch of dog feed to the Jarl's kitchen? He puts in an order every few weeks. I usually deliver it myself, but the old man here at the stables isn't feeling too well, and I've kind of been running things myself lately. I'll pay you ten septims for the delivery."

Glenys agreed to do so and waited with Vigilance while Banning went inside to retrieve the delivery.

An old man approached. "Interested in that pup?" he asked.

"Possibly," she replied. "Do you raise the dogs as well?"

"Naw," the man replied with a shake of his head. "I breed horses." He nodded toward the nearby stables. "Finest horses in the Reach. Keep me in mind should you need one. They're strong, hardy, and dependable. Just what you need in the harsh terrain around here."

Glenys admired the beautiful black and white horses around the stable. "Have you lived in Markarth long?"

"Most of my life," he replied. "I came here as a young man. My father bred horses outside Riften, but my brother took over the family business when he grew ill, and he and I never got along. I worked under an old man here for several years, but he was killed when the Forsworn took the city back years ago, and I've run things ever since. Banning is a big help. I was glad he decided to start breeding his dogs here. And then there's Kibell." He nodded toward the nearby carriage. "He was a warrior but a bum leg brought an end to that. Now he takes coin to bring travelers all over Skyrim. Probably one of the safest ways to travel right now, what with the Forsworn and the bandits and the war . . ." he tsked. "He just returned from Whiterun with talk of dragons! What's going to come along next?"

Glenys smiled at the old man and decided to try and keep him talking. He seemed happy to have a visitor to listen to him. "What happened when the Forsworn took the city?"

The old man's eyes sparkled. He was definitely enjoying getting to share his knowledge. "Well, it was the dwarves who first settled here, as you can tell by the buildings," he began, using the layman's term for the Dwemer. "Then sometime after they disappeared, the Reachmen took control. The ancestors of the Forsworn. When Tiber Septim was emperor, he gained control of Markarth for the Empire, and the Nords moved in. Any Reachmen who stayed were forced to be servants or laborers. Their land was seized. It really wasn't a very fair treatment to them, and it's no wonder their descendants took issue with it.

"During the Great War, we were pretty much defenseless here," he continued. "We're too far from Cyrodiil to matter when things like that are happening, and they pulled out much of our guards and young men to fight for the Empire. The Reachmen seized the city and took control, killing anyone who refused to follow them, my old employer amongst them. That only lasted a couple years, though. After the war, Ulfric Stormcloak and his men drove them out. Land was seized again. It's still very rare, twenty years later, to see a Reachman owning anything substantial around here. After that was the Markarth incident that pretty much started this damn civil war. Then the Reachmen who were driven from the city and refused to settle into a Nord way of life started calling themselves the Forsworn, and they've been causing loads of trouble ever since. I'm a native Reachman, myself. They say we're of Breton blood, and I suppose that makes since. Before the Nords we had our own ways . We worshipped the old gods, ran our own kingdom. Those that couldn't adapt to the Nord way of life, that refuse to let foreigners run our native lands . . . those are the Forsworn. Things have been good and bad since then. I'm lucky enough to own my own business, to do well for myself. But not many Reachmen can say the same."

"The Markarth incident?" Glenys asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Aye," the old man replied. "The Empire promised Ulfric and his men if they won back Markarth for them, they'd be free to worship Talos afterward, no matter what the treaty said. Shame no one told the elves that. A whole group of those Thalmor soldiers showed up demanding Ulfric's arrest. They put up a fight, but Jarl Igmund's father, Jarl Hrolfdir, handed Ulfric over to the Thalmor. I don't know how he got free again, but in truth, the Jarl didn't have much of a choice, no matter his own personal feelings. He could've started the Great War all over again if he hadn't submitted to the Thalmor. Their influence has been pretty heavy in Markarth ever since. There's an emissary who stays in the keep, and Jarl Igmund pretty much has to bow to their demands."

Glenys hadn't been aware of that and made a mental note to look into just who this Thalmor emissary was at a later time.

"Cedran, are you talking this lady's ear off?" Banning teased as he returned with a large bag.

The old man chuckled. "She's kind enough to let an old man tell his stories. You stay safe, young lady."

Glenys smiled and thanked him for the information then took the dog feed and payment from Banning. As she left the stable yard, she passed Kibell who was making some repairs to his wagon.

"If you're looking for a ride, I'll be up and running again by nightfall," he told her. "I can bring you to any of the hold capitals throughout Skyrim."

"Thank you, I'll remember that," Glenys replied, "but I think I'll be in Markarth for at least a bit longer."

* * *

This time when Glenys entered Understone Keep, there was no arguing. The man who had been fighting with the priest, however, was leaned against the wall near the entrance and gave the elf an appraising look.

"You one of those Thalmor?" he asked.

"No," she replied, stopping to hear what he had to say. She sat her delivery down to take a break while she spoke with him. It was quite heavy.

"You behind the Empire or the Stormcloaks?" he wanted to know.

"I'm new to Skyrim," she replied. "I haven't really been here long enough to form an opinion on the matter."

He nodded, respecting her honesty. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, the Empire has no place in Markarth," he replied. "Our poor excuse for a Jarl is nothing but a puppet to the Thalmor and Empire. Why, if it wasn't for Ulfric Stormcloak, our city would still be under the control of the Forsworn."

Glenys chose not to comment.

"You staying in the city long?" he asked.

"Possibly," she replied. "I haven't really decided yet."

"What's in the bag?"

"A delivery from Banning at the stables," she replied. Though it wasn't really any of the man's business, there was no reason to refuse answering and make another enemy.

The man nodded. "I'm Thongvor Silver-Blood. Jarl or not, my family runs this city."

"I saw you arguing with a priest the other day," she commented. "Something about the Hall of the Dead being closed?"

The man frowned at that. "He's hiding something. Damn Imperial liars. First, they take Talos from us, now we can't even visit our honored dead." He shook his head and continued muttering to himself.

"Well, uh, I should get this dog feed to the kitchen," Glenys stated, picking up the heavy bag and leaving the hostile man.

She received directions to the kitchen from one of the guards and climbed the stone stairs, taking a left before entering the throne room. Several dogs were lounging about the hallway outside the kitchen. One growled at her in warning, the others watched her pass, but just as Banning said, they wouldn't attack unless provoked.

"May I help you?" a young man of Breton blood asked when she entered the kitchen.

"I have a delivery of some dog feed from the stables," Glenys replied.

"My sister, Voada, handles the dogs," he replied with a nod toward a woman near the hearth. "I'd better get back to work or else Anton will have my head."

Glenys approached the woman. "Excuse me," she said, "I have a delivery here from Banning."

"Ah yes, the spiced beef we ordered," the woman replied with a smile. "Thank you. It's their favorite, and the dogs were getting restless." She reached into a nearby jar and pulled out a few septims. "A tip for your service."

An older Breton wearing a chef's hat entered the room then and began barking orders, so Glenys decided to make herself scarce.

As she left the kitchen, she crossed the path of the Thalmor emissary and some of his soldiers. He studied her appraisingly. She said a silent prayer to whatever Divines may be listening that she was far enough from home that she wouldn't be suspected of being who she was.

"I don't know you," the man stated in typical uppety Altmer fashion.

"I've only been in the city for a few days," she replied.

"I see," he answered. "Do you travel alone?"

"I do," she replied.

"From where?"

"Solitude," she lied. "I've lived there for several years and decided I wished to visit the city of stone."

The emissary nodded. "It's good to see another Altmer in the city," he replied, a bit more friendly now. "I am Ondolemar, emissary to the Thalmor. To my knowledge, aside from us, the only other Altmer in the city is Calcelmo. Have you met him?"

"I have, briefly," Glenys replied. "His research seems fascinating."

"Ah, a seeker of knowledge then," Ondolemar replied. "A very beautiful one at that."

She thanked him for the compliment but made sure not to act at all flirtatious toward him. A relationship with someone who worked for the enemy, no matter how aestetically pleasing he may be, was something she would never be interested in.

"You haven't told me your name," he stated.

"Glenys," she replied, hoping within herself that didn't set off any bells and whistles to the man.

It didn't seem to. "Well, Glenys, welcome to Markarth."

"Thank you, Ondolemar," she replied. "What is it you do here at the keep?"

"The Empire exists because we, the Thalmor, allow it to exist," he replied haughtily, "and I'm here to make sure the Jarl remembers that. I'm here to root out all Talos worshippers from this corner of Skyrim. The Empire has agreed to accept our beliefs, and its citizens need to cease their heretical worship. Frankly, this civil war is ridiculous. Fighting over a false god. Nords are such simple creatures." Ondolemar studied her again. "Perhaps you would like to do a job for me," he stated. "Ogmund the skald. I know for a fact he worships Talos in his home, but the Jarl is reluctant to make his arrest because he's well-respected in the city. Perhaps you could do some investigating for me. Find me some undeniable proof."

"I've only just arrived in Markarth," Glenys replied. "I doubt I have any connections that could be of use and hate to make enemies amongst the locals so soon upon my arrival."

The Thalmor frowned. "I assure you, the only friend you need in this city is me. But very well then. Should you change your mind and decide to be of help to us, proving your loyalty to your people, you know where to find me."

At that, the emissary walked away, and Glenys let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

The Hag's Cure was an apothecary shop located up a set of steep stone stairs not far from the keep, and Glenys decided to make it her next stop, wanting to get far away from Ondolemar and his cronies.

Though alchemy, really magicka in general, didn't interest Glenys nearly as much as it had her sister, Mari, she had some basic knowledge she had picked up over the years from her mother, and she was interested in visiting the shop. Her supply of healing potions was quite dwindled after the donation she'd made in the Warren's, and she had drank her last one after receiving the punch to her gut the day before. It was time to restock.

"Welcome to the Hag's Cure, dear," an elderly woman greeted from behind the counter. Despite her gray hair and painted face, her Breton ancestory was apparent. "We are here for all your discreet needs. I have potions for disease, love sickness, irritating children . . ." she chuckled. "Old Reach magic can cure whatever ails you."

"Your shop has such an unsual name," Glenys commented. "How did you decide upon it?"

The old woman chuckled again. "Comes with living to a ripe old age. First people think there's something magic about you, then comes the insults and the fear. Still, a little bit of knowledge of plants and potions gets me by. Not that anyone will admit to buying anything from me. Not these Nords, at least. Gods forbid they admit to using any type of magicka. I have this potion here for the Jarl's steward, but he won't be seen in my shop and won't let me or my assistant deliver it to him. You wouldn't be interest in making a delivery for a few septims, would you?"

Glenys shrugged. "Why not?" she replied, taking the potion and a handful of septims from the old woman.

"Just tell him it'll fix that problem he's having," the woman instructed with a chuckle. "Now what can I do for you today, dear?"

"I'd like half a dozen minor healing potions, please," Glenys replied.

"Muiri, you heard the lady," the woman called out to her assistant, a pretty young Breton woman who went about searching the shelves for the potions Glenys wanted.

"New in town?" the old woman asked.

The elf nodded.

"Well, the name's Bothela. I've lived around here most of my life, so if you've any questions about the city or the local flora, I'm happy to help."

"Actually, I've been hearing so much about some Silver-Blood family since I arrived," Glenys replied, seeing an opportunity to possibly get some more information in a discreet way. "What can you tell me about them?"

"They own most of the city as well as land outside it," Bothela answered. "Personally, I think we'd be better off without them. One of their brutes, Yngvar, comes by every few days to shake some coin out of me. People can hardly support themselves around here with the Silver-Bloods reaching into their pockets. And Betrid Silver-Blood is always buying potions from me to fuel Thonar's 'ambitions'. Gives him a temper fiercer than a bear."

"And what of these Forsworn I keep hearing about?" Glenys pressed. "Do you know anything about them?"

"Only that they break an old woman's heart," Bothela replied sadly. "So many friends, so many kin . . . all lost trying to rebuild a past that was over long ago. And the paranoia the whole mess leads to . . . my own grandson was arrested for it. He wasn't one of them, the ones they call the Forsworn, but nearly two years ago, someone pointed their finger at him, saying he was. They arrested him for murder, and he's been in Cidhna Mine ever since. My Odvan may have drank a bit too much, but he'd never kill anyone."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Glenys replied sympathetically.

Muiri approached and set the small viles of potion down on the counter.

"Well, then, I've herbs to crush," Bothela commented. "You have a nice day, dear, and come back to the Hag's Cure if you need any other potions or ingredients."

Glenys thanked her and made her way back outside into the bright afternoon.

* * *

Back at the keep, Glenys was relieved to not run into the Thalmor emissary again. She entered the throne room and was approached by a Redguard woman wearing heavy steel armor.

"That's close enough," the warrior stated. "State your business."

"I have a delivery for the Jarl's steward," Glenys replied.

The woman nodded and gestured toward an elderly man in fine robes who sat on a stone chair near the throne, but she kept her eyes on Glenys as the elf approached him.

"You're the steward?" Glenys confirmed.

"Aye, I am Raerek, steward of Markarth," the old man replied. "I am also the Jarl's uncle. I have served the people of Markarth since my brother's rule. What can I do for you, young lady?"

"I have a delivery for you," she replied discreetly, "from Bothela. She says it will assist you with the problem you've been having."

The old man blushed and appeared quite embarrased as he took the potion from Glenys. He stuttered out a thanks and passed her a few coins as a tip for the delivery.

Glenys made her way toward Calcelmo's museum, chuckling to herself and wondering just what problem the old man found so embarrasing.


	6. The Forsworn Conspiracy

Chapter Six: The Forsworn Conspiracy (Tirdas/Middas, 26th/27th of Last Seed)

After receiving word from Eltrys that Thonar Silver-Blood would not be in the Treasury House until Middas, according to Rhiada, Glenys decided to pay a visit to Nepos the Nose first.

It was noon. She stood outside the bronze door of the home belonging to Nepos, located high atop some very steep stone steps in one of the highest points of the city. Vorstag stood beside her.

"You're sure you don't mind coming with me?" she asked.

"Not at all," the man assured her, again.

"I mean, there's probably no reason for it," she stated. "I just . . . my instincts say this could go bad."

Vorstag chuckled. "You're digging into a conspiracy that involves the Forsworn and Markarth's most influential family and have already been threatened twice for doing so," he replied. "I can't imagine why on Nirn you might think it could go bad."

Glenys laughed as well.

Upon entering, they were immediately approached by an attractive but hard-looking Breton woman wearing a simple dress. "What's your business here?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Nepos," Glenys replied.

"We haven't been expecting you," the woman stated rudely, "and the old man needs his rest. You need to leave."

"Wait," a man's voice spoke from the next room. "It's fine, my dear. Send her in."

She let out a slight grunt of disapproval but replied, "Alright, Nepos." She turned back toward Glenys. "You heard the man. Go on in."

They found the old man sitting beside a roaring fire. One look at him told how he achieved his nickname. His nose was unusually large, especially for someone of Breton descent, and his jaw was also disproportionate to the rest of his features.

"Excuse my housekeeper," he apologized with a smile. "She's a bit protective of me. Now what is it that you want?"

"You sent a thug to get rid of me," Glenys replied. "Because I was getting too close to the truth. While you claim to serve the people of Markarth, you are a member of the Forsworn."

"Ah, yes," the man replied with a nod of his head. "You've proven to be a real bloodhound." He sighed. "Well, you've sniffed me out. I've been playing this game for twenty years, sending the young to their deaths. All in the name of the Forsworn. And I'm tired . . . so very tired."

"Why do you do this?" Glenys asked.

"Because my king told me to," he replied. "Madanach. When the uprising fell to the Nords, they threw him in the mines. Cidhna Mine. Not only the largest and most profitable mine in all of Skyrim but also the most secure prison. I don't know how, but he still lives. I get his messages, and I hand out his orders without question." He was silent for a short time, staring into the flames. "Markarth and the Reach are our lands. That is why we are the Forsworn. We cannot claim the home that is rightly ours. Then, during the war with the elves, we had our moment. We drove the Nords out of the Reach with a great uprising, but Ulfric and his men eventually came. Those of us who didn't run were executed, except myself, my king, and a handful of others."

"Tell me about Madanach," Glenys ordered.

"He is the king in rags," Nepos replied. "A man who once held all of the Reach within his grip. He stokes the passions of the downtrodden in this city, orders them to kill the enemies of the Forsworn in our name. . . all from inside Cidhna Mine, a Nord prison. The irony is quite thick."

"Why are you so willing to tell me all this?" she asked.

"My dear girl," Nepos replied with an evil smile, "what makes you think you are getting out of here alive? You were seen coming in. The girl at the door is a Forsworn agent masquerading as a maid. You aren't the first to get this far, and you won't be the last."

The sound of weapons being drawn behind them, drew their attention. Three Bretons, dressed as servants, had pulled weapons and were approaching Glenys and Vorstag. Although they were well armed and competent with destruction spells, Vorstag was able to kill them quickly, leaving only Nepos who now stood in front of the fire, a spell of flames glowing in the palm of his right hand.

"So you've bested my bodyguards," he stated with a dry chuckle.

"Surrender, and you won't meet their fate," Vorstag ordered.

"I would rather die," the old man replied, shooting flames out toward his two opponents.

Vorstag quickly ran him through with his steel sword, and the old man collapsed to the ground.

Afterward, Glenys looted the bodies and searched the home for anything useful, not turning up anything aside from the old man's journal.

"Does it say anything helpful?" Vorstag asked.

"Not really," she replied. "Mostly just regrets. He's sent so many to their deaths, and it sounds as if in his old age, he was feeling remorseful for it."

"Probably got to the point he didn't feel he had a choice," Vorstag commented. "He'd been doing it so long, and Madanach and whoever he works with had dirt on him because of it. If he stopped, he probably would've ended up in the mines as well, and chances are, Madanach would've had him killed when he arrived."

Glenys nodded.

"Now what?" Vorstag asked.

"I meet Eltrys tonight and tell him what I found, make sure Thonar Silver-Blood will be back tomorrow and then confront him," Glenys answered.

"I'm coming with you when you do that," the warrior told her. "You could've been killed today, and the Silver-Bloods hold much more power than Nepos."

She nodded, thankful to have him on her side.

* * *

With the proof right in front of him, Eltrys was still shocked that Nepos the Nose had been a player in the conspiracy. "He was so respected. Everyone trusted him . . . I trusted him. He did so much for my mother after my father was killed. I thought it was out of kindness, but now I wonder if he was behind his murder and helped us out of guilt."

* * *

After eating breakfast together, Vorstag and Glenys went to the Markarth Treasury House. They stood outside the bronze door for a moment, wondering what awaited them inside.

"You ready for this?" Vorstag asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

They stepped inside and were immediately greeted by a beautiful Breton woman behind the counter. "Welcome to Markarth Treasury House," she greeted. "I am Rhiada. How can I help you today?"

"I'm new to the city and had some questions about running a business here," Glenys lied. Rhiada, obviously, knew the truth, but there were two elderly Bretons in the room, and there was no way to know as to whether or not any of the Silver-Bloods were within hearing range.

"We deal with all the landowners of the Reach," Rhiada explained. "It goes without saying, they rely on us heavily for our silver and support. All the farmers, miners, and laborers in the Reach get their daily wages through us. Nepos the Nose handles that business. He has a way with the workers." Although Rhiada, no doubt, was aware of Nepos' death from her husband, word hadn't spread to the public yet, so she was keeping up appearances.

"Could I speak with who is in charge?" Glenys asked.

"That would be Thonar Silver-Blood," she replied. "He runs things around here. His brother, Thongvar, is much more interested in politics than in business." She lowered her voice near to a whisper to avoid anyone else overhearing. "He's told me he doesn't want to be disturbed, but he's in his private office, up the stairs to your left."

Glenys thanked the woman, and she and her friend/protector made their way toward Thonar's office. They passed a finely dressed blonde woman who sat at a table eating a late breakfast. She looked at the two rather disapprovingly as they passed, obviously seeing herself as better than them.

Thonar Silver-Blood was a balding man in a robe that probably cost more coins than most of his workers saw in their lifetime. He sat at a desk with papers strewn about in front him. "What are you doing here? I told them no visitors."

"What do you know about Margret's murder?" Glenys asked, getting right to the point.

"The Imperial agent?" he asked with a haughty smirk. "That's right. I knew. How many dogs is the Empire going to send after me? This is my business. My city. You Empire lovers should learn to accept that. Now get out."

A sudden noise from the next room, crashing and a scream, a struggle, caused Thonar to jump from his chair and rush into the next room. Glenys and Vorstag followed.

The rich woman they had passed lay dead on the floor at the feet of the two elderly servants who both held swords. Rhiada was cowered behind the counter, tears in her eyes.

"No!" Thonar cried, kneeling beside the dead woman. "My wife . . . my Betrid!" He glared at his servants. "We had a deal, you Forsworn bastards! A deal!" He stood and drew his sword, quickly dispatching of the two Forsworn agents. When they were dead, he dropped his sword and knelt beside his wife's corpse again. "My wife. They killed her. Damn Madanach. Damn his Forsworn backside."

"Are you finally ready to tell the truth?" Vorstag asked.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Glenys commented quietly.

"No you're not," Thonar spat. "You want to know who the Forsworn really are? They're my puppets. I have their 'king' rotting away in Cidhna Mine. He was supposed to keep them under control." He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "Madanach. The king in rags. While we were away fighting you elves, Madanach was busy ruling the Reach until Ulfric came and put them down. When their uprising was crushed, I had Madanach brought to me. He was a wild animal but a useful one. I offered him a stay from execution if he used his influence to deal with any annoyances that came up . . . competitors, agents, idiots. So I've let him run his little Forsworn rebellion from inside Cidhna Mine. Now he's out of control.

"Cidhna Mine is my prison. The source of over half the silver in Skyrim," Thonar continued. "It's the most secure prison in Tamriel. No one escapes. I thought keeping Madanach down there would keep him under control."

"He has betrayed you," Glenys stated. "Let us help you bring him to justice and avenge your wife."

"Fuck off," Thonar spat. "You've already gotten what you wanted. Now get out of my house!"

Glenys glanced at Vorstag who nodded, concerned that the grieving man would act desperately if they stayed any longer.

Once safely outside, where rain had begun to fall upon the city, Glenys let out a sigh. "Wow," she stated.

Vorstag nodded his agreement. "What a mess."


	7. Cidhna Mine

Chapter Seven: Cidhna Mine (Turdas, 28th of Last Seed)

Glenys arrived at the usual time to meet Eltrys at the Shrine of Talos. She'd been celebrating Harvest's End at the inn but had refrained from imbibing on too much wine because of her scheduled meeting. On this occasion though, as she approached the large stone statue, she didn't see the man waiting for her as he usually did. Then she noticed the blood pooling near its base. She followed it and found Eltrys, lying dead behind the statue, his neck slit. She gasped, her hand covering her mouth, and tears filled her eyes.

The sound of the heavy bronze doors closing drew her attention, and she watched as two city guards came down the ramp into the room.

"We warned you," one of them stated. She recognized his voice as the guard who had threatened her outside the inn a few days before. "We told you to stop digging into things that weren't your business. Now we have to go and pin all these recent murders on you. Work, work, work."

"You're corrupt," Glenys accused. "Thonar is paying you to do this."

The second guard shrugged. "We have a nice little arrangement in this city. We're not about to let you go and ruin it."

"But Eltrys!" she cried. "Why did you have to kill him? He was a good man. He has a wife. He's to be a father soon!"

"It's his own fault," the first guard replied. "We had a good thing going between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started snooping around. You wanted to know who's responsible for the killings in Markarth? You'll have lots of time to question the king in rags while you're rotting away in Cidhna Mine."

Glenys pulled out her dagger and conjured some flame in her palm, but she was no match for two highly trained guards. They had restrained her and knocked her unconscious before she could even deal any damage. As everything faded to black, she could only hope that somehow Vorstag avoided meeting her fate.

* * *

Glenys was handled roughly and spoken to rudely by the guards. Her possessions were taken. Her dress was torn from her frame, and a ragged tunic and torn pants were put in its place. Her feet were covered with cloth slippers that did little to protect the soles of her feet from the uneven and rocky ground in the mine she now called home.

After basically being thrown through the iron gate, she followed a ramp down into the mine, finding a fellow prisoner sitting cross-legged beside an open fire. Glenys gathered the man to be about middle-aged, but he was so thin and haggard-looking, he appeared much older. She sat beside him and warmed her hands over the fire. The air in the mine was cool and damp, and she could already feel a chill setting in.

"What are you in for, new blood?" the other prisoner asked. "We don't see many of your kind in here."

"Nothing," Glenys replied. "I'm innocent."

The man laughed. "So was I for the first one. The other murders were all me, though." He reached a hand out toward the elf. "I'm Uraccen. Been here so long, I've lost count. Left my daughter, Uaile, behind when I was taken. I don't even remember how old she'd be now. Nepos promised he'd take care of her for me."

Glenys recognized the name from reading Nepos' journal. Uaile was the Forsworn agent who posed as a maid in his home. She chose to keep the fact that this man's daughter was dead, partially because of her, a secret.

"My advice to you, new blood," the man continued, "serve your time with a pickaxe and get out. Don't wanna end up getting a shiv in the gut over a bottle of skooma."

"Where are the guards?" Glenys asked. Aside from the two of them beside the fire, the only other person in the large cavern was a threatening-looking Orc standing beside a gate nearby. From his dress, Glenys could tell he was a fellow prisoner.

"They come in once a week to gather the bodies, collect any ore we've mined, and beat down the troublemakers," Uraccen replied. "That's the only time we get food, too, and if there's not enough ore mined up, we don't get any. Most of us have forgotten what it feels like not to be hungry."

"Are you with the Forsworn?" Glenys asked. At his inquisitive look, she elaborated. "I have it on good authority that many of the prisoners here are."

He nodded. "I wasn't. I was a simple servant. Served a Nord nobleman. He was stabbed during the night, and although I didn't do it, I ran. Somehow I knew, even then, someone would try to pin it on me. With nowhere else to go, I joined the Forsworn. Started killing for them. Eventually got caught, and here I am." He was quiet for a moment, staring at the flames. "No regrets though, not really. Life was better under the old ways. No Nords and their laws and mistreatment of the Reachmen. One day the Forsworn will paint the walls of Markarth with Nord blood."

"Where can I find Madanach?" Glenys asked, deciding she was ready to be done talking to this man.

"Ah, if you're asking that, you must be the new lifer," Uraccen commented. "Tough luck, friend. Those guards sold you out but good. I'm afraid no one talks to Madanach. Well, unless you're able to get passed Borkul the Beast," he nodded toward the orc across the room. "He's Madanach's guard. Big, even for an orc. They say he tore a man's arm off and beat him to death with it."

"Pleasant," Glenys muttered to herself. She stood and approached the orc.

"I need to see Madanach," she stated, attempting to sound confident and not at all intimidated by the very intimidating man. "Chances are, he's expecting me."

"You want to talk to the king in rags? No one talks to Madanach," he replied. "Not without paying the toll at least."

"What's the toll?" Glenys asked.

"A shiv. Bring me a shiv," the orc answered. "Not that I need one, but it would be handy to have one on hand in case I need to do some shaving." He laughed darkly.

"I don't have a shiv," she replied.

"Then find one," the orc barked. "That dungheap Grisvar's been known to make a few."

Glenys nodded and turned to walk away.

"New blood," the orc commented. "How many men did you kill?"

"I haven't killed anyone," she replied honestly.

"Liar," Borkul replied.

Glenys decided to let him believe what he wanted to. "What are you in for?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Murder. Banditry. Assault. Take your pick. Guards brought me in about twelve years ago. Was running a decent group of bandits before that. But these Forsworn down here, they're nothing like the men I ran with outside. They're real killers. I'll fight beside them any day."

Glenys found the nervous Grisvar down one of the tunnels, wielding a pickaxe. He was a balding Nord with a thin moustache, and it was clear to her that he lived in fear in the mine, probably why he always had shivs on hand.

"I'm told I can get a shiv from you," Glenys stated.

The man narrowed his eyes at her. "New blood? Looking to protect yourself?"

She lied with a nod.

"Don't blame you," he replied, glancing around nervously. "These Forsworn are monsters. Bring me a bottle of skooma, and I'll trade you a shiv for it. Just don't tell anyone you got it from me."

Now she just had to figure out where to find a bottle of skooma.

Returning to Uraccen, Glenys asked him about finding some skooma.

"That's basically a form of currency down here," the man replied. "Go talk to Duach. He usually has some. I try to stay away from the stuff myself."

She found Duach down another tunnel. He was a Breton with a long, dark, braided beard. He greeted her, referring to her as a new blood like the others had, and asked what she was in for. She simply told him she'd been accused of murder, and he answered with his own story.

"I've been in here for years," he told her. "I don't know when I last saw the light of day. Seven years, maybe? I'm a Forsworn. One of our raids went bad, and I was captured. Would've been happy dying defending the Reach with my kinsmen, but the Nords want their ore mined, so they threw me in here."

"Look, uh, I heard you might have something I'm looking for," Glenys said quietly, looking about as if she didn't want anyone to hear and doing her best to act like an addict.

"Getting the shakes, huh?" Duach replied with pity. "Here's a bottle. Old gods keep you."

Glenys took the bottle and headed back to Grisvar who happily took it and handed over a shiv that looked to be made of a sharp scrap of metal, the base of which was wrapped with old cloth. She returned to Borkul the Beast and handed over the shiv.

"Head on in," the orc commented with a look of respect toward the elf. "Watch yourself. The old man is smarter than you think."

Madanach was an elderly Breton with long white hair and a finely kept matching beard. His room possessed an actual bed and desk. Food and bottles of drink lined a shelf. He was obviously not suffering nearly as much as the other prisoners.

He sat at his desk, quill in hand, as Glenys approached.

"Well, well, look at you," he commented, glancing upon the elf with a pleased smile. "The Nords have turned you into an animal. A wild beast caged up and left to go mad." He turned in his chair, so he was fully facing her. "So, my fellow beast, what is it that you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?"

"You have a lot to answer for," Glenys replied.

"Do I?" the old man answered. "And what about you? What right do you have to meddle in my affairs? Have your hired man kill my people? Was this worth it? Finding your truth?" He stood and approached Glenys. "You're one of us now, you see. A slave. The boot of the Nord crushing your throat. Perhaps if you understood that, I could help you."

"I don't need your help," the Altmer woman commented stubbornly.

"So many say that, at first, until they realize the truth. Speak to Braig," Madanach suggested. "I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth really is."

"Fine. I'll talk to him," Glenys replied, "but first, answer some of my questions."

"Very well," the old man commented with a smirk. He sat back down in his chair and gestured with his hand out, palm up, as if to say 'carry on'.

"Tell me about your dealings with Thonar Silver-Blood," she ordered.

"Ah, the crooked Nord who had you framed," Madanach commented with a chuckle. "I had Markarth. My men and I drove the Nords out. We had won, or so we thought. Retribution was swift. I was captured, quickly tried, and sentenced to death. But my execution was stayed, thanks to Thonar Silver-Blood. He wanted the Forsworn at his disposal. He requested I point their rage at his enemies and spare his allies, no matter our personal vendettas. So I did. Humiliating, at first. But I knew he would let his guard down eventually, come to believe I was really under his control."

"You lulled him into a false sense of confidence," Glenys surmised.

"I did, indeed," Madanach answered with a smirk. "You may think we are monsters, young elf, but the Forsworn are the victims. This was our land. We were here first. Then the Nords came and put chains on us. They forbade us from worshipping our gods. Yet they stand against you elves for doing the same to them. Hypocrisy at its finest. Some of us refused to bow. We knew the old gods would lead us to once again having our own kingdom. That is who we are, and who we will remain. Criminals in our own land, and we will carve a bloody hole in the Reach until we are free." He turned back to his desk and picked up his quill. "Now, I think I've answered enough questions for now. Come back when you've spoken with Braig."

Glenys wasn't thrilled with being dismissed, but she turned to leave, retracing her steps down the tunnel and seeking out the prisoner called Braig.

She found the Breton prisoner working with a pickaxe not far from the main cavern. He glanced at her and greeted her with a simple nod but didn't say anything.

"Madanach told me to come talk to you," Glenys explained.

"Wants me to tell you my story, I suppose," the man replied, resting on his pickaxe. "Everyone down here has a tale," he sighed and stared off for a moment, his eyes haunted. "I had a daughter once. She'd be twenty-three now. Probably married to some hot-headed silver worker, or perhaps on her own, learning the herb trade. The Nords didn't care who was or who wasn't involved in the uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, and that was enough for them. But my little Aethra didn't want to see her papa leave her. She pleaded with the Jarl not to take me, then asked that they take her instead. After they made me watch as her head rolled off the block, they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver. She was only five years old." His voice cracked, but he shook the sorrow off and took a deep breath, picking his pickaxe up again. "I wasn't a Forsworn before then, but I am now. My only regret is not killing more Nords before I was locked up. I am not Madanach. I was never a leader of the Forsworn, and wrongs have been done by both sides. But every family in the Reach has a story akin to mine, Nord and Reachman alike. There is no innocent side in this battle. Just the dead and the guilty."

Glenys was overcome by sadness at this man's story. As she returned to Madanach's quarters, she realized the Forsworn were right. She may not agree with their methods, but they were just as much victims, if not more so, than the Nords who lived in fear of their raids. The Nords, who were fighting for their own religious freedom to worship Talos, were guilty of commiting the same crimes against the Reachmen. Of outlawing their religion, of treating them as an inferior race. The entire situation was unjust, and Braig was right. There were horrible wrongs committed by both sides.

Madanach must have seen the sorrow in her golden eyes. "Imagine hearing stories like that over and over," he stated when she returned. "Each time a different family. Each time a different unjustice. Your meddling above ground reminded me of just how removed I have been from the struggle. My men should be out in the hills, fighting for our people."

"Does that mean you know how to get out of here?" Glenys asked.

"Yes, but before we do, I need a show of loyalty from you," Madanach replied. "I don't need a shiv in my back while we're trying to escape. He stood and removed a shiv from a nearby chest. "Have you met Grisvar the Unlucky?" At her nod, he continued. "He's rightly named, and he's also a thief and a snitch. He's outlived his minor usefulness. Take care of him for me, and then we can leave Cidhna Mine for good."

Glenys was not at all comfortable with the idea of killing a man, especially one who had never done anything to her, but as Elain had often told her since they set out to free their brother and parents from the Thalmor, you do what you need to do for the survival of yourself and your family.

She found the Nord in a skooma-induced stupor alone down one of the tunnels. She drove the shiv into the side of his neck and cringed as the blood spurted from his jugular onto her hand. She returned to Madanach who looked pleased with the evidence of her kill.

"You've finally become one of us," he stated with a proud smile. "Come. I think it's time we announce my plans to your new brothers."

Madanach and Glenys stood outside the gate to his quarters, all the Forsworn prisoners gathered around.

"What's going on, Madanach?" Uraccen asked. "You wouldn't have had Grisvar killed if you were planning on needing him."

"My brothers," the king in rags stated, "we have been here long enough. It's time to leave Cidhna Mine and continue our fight against the Nords. Through the gate right beside my quarters is a tunnel. A tunnel that leads through the Dwarven ruins and right into the city. What do you say, my brothers?"

The Forsworn let out a cheer, and Madanach turned to Glenys. "Well, my new friend, it appears you've earned an early pardon."

The group followed Madanach through the tunnel and then the Dwemer ruins, fighting off a few Dwemer machinations along the way. Glenys was fascinated by the mechanical spiders and wished she had the time to take one apart and explore its contents.

At the end of the tunnel, in front of a large bronze door, stood a Breton woman in full Forsworn regalia. Their armor was a mixture of fur and bone, very rustic in appearance, as were the weapons Glenys watched her pass out to the others. This woman, who they called Kaie, had also brought Glenys' things that had been confiscated by the guards.

"I had Kaie recover your things," Madanach explained, "but here's a gift." He handed her set of Forsworn armor. "The armor of the Old Gods. Something to remember your new friends by. Don't worry about your name. After today, the Nords will have no doubt who is really responsible, and you'll be cleared."

Before long, they were all dressed and armed and made their way into the city.

Somehow Thonar Silver-Blood was expecting them. He stood outside the door, blocking their way with a handful of city guards. "You think you can escape my prison, Madanach?" he asked haughtily. "You'll pay for what you've done to my family!"

"You're family?" Madanach replied with sneer. "You've poisoned the Reach with your tainted silver long enough, Thonar!"

They all drew weapons, and a battle ensued. Glenys knew this wasn't her fight, and she quietly snuck away, heading back toward the inn, the sounds of the battle fading behind her. It wasn't until the next morning she would learn that the majority of the Forsworn, including Madanach, had escaped the city, and Thonar Silver-Blood was dead.


	8. Thane of The Reach

Chapter Eight: Thane of the Reach (Fridas, 29th of Last Seed)

Vorstag sat at a table in the corner of the inn. It was well after midnight, but he hadn't slept at all. He'd left for Dragon's Bridge early that morning to retrieve the Dibella statue for Glenys and Lisbet. When he'd returned after nightfall, Eltrys' murder and Glenys' subsequent arrest had been the talk of the town.

He felt horrible. He should've insisted on going with the elf to her meeting that night. He knew she was getting in deep, and after calling Thonar Silver-Blood out on his illegal dealings, he had assumed things were only going to get worse. He hadn't expected her to be arrested, though, to be framed for her friend's murder, or else he wouldn't have remained at the inn celebrating Harvest's End until the wee hours of the morning with the other patrons.

He'd gotten up early and left the city before the sun had rose, so he hadn't found it odd to not see Glenys up and around, and he hadn't stopped to talk to anyone. Not that he could've done anything to get her out of Cidhna Mine even if he'd been there. Chances are, if he had been there when she was arrested, he would've been as well. At least then he could be in the prison to protect her.

He didn't look up when he heard someone enter the inn, and when he heard someone approach his table, he prepared to tell them he just wanted to be alone.

"Is this seat taken?" a familiar voice said.

Vorstag looked up, shocked. It was Glenys. He felt a wave of relief wash over him and was immediately on his feet, embracing the thin elf. "By the gods, am I glad to see you," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled into his neck and buried her face there, clinging to his muscular frame. It had been a very long twenty-four hours. She was exhausted, sad, and frightened. Although Madanach told her that her name would be cleared, there was no way she could be sure. What if the Jarl was involved in all this as well?

Vorstag, ever observant of his new friend and able to read her like a book already, pulled away slightly and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Come," he said softly with a smile. "Let's retire to somewhere more private, so you can rest and tell me how on Nirn you managed to get out of Cidhna Mine."

* * *

Glenys awoke the next morning and smiled to herself, feeling the warm body against her back. There had been no story telling the night before. She and Vorstag had retired to her room where she broke into tears. The Nord warrior's comforting had led to more, and before they knew it, they were wrapped around each other beneath the furs in an intimate embrace.

A rough hand caressing her bare arm signaled to Glenys that her companion was awake, and she rolled to face him. She buried her face in his chest, her nose tickling from the small patch of curly hair there.

"Good morning," Vorstag said with a smile, brushing a piece of brown hair from her face and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Good morning," she replied unable to fight her own smile in return.

"Are you alright with what happened between us last night?" Vorstag asked. "You were upset, and it wasn't my intent, but I began to worry after you'd fallen asleep that I had taken advantage."

"You didn't," Glenys answered, placing a brief kiss on his lips. "If I recall correctly, I made the first move."

Vorstag chuckled. She had, indeed.

"So . . . what does this mean?" Glenys asked.

"Well, I don't know about you," her warrior replied, "but I really hope it happens again. I . . . I haven't allowed myself much time to pursue relationships in my life. If you get close to people, they can be taken from you, like my parents." He was silent as he stared into Glenys' amber-colored eyes. "There have been women, of course. In my travels. But no one I ever developed feelings for. Then you came along, and I . . . I tried really hard to tell myself I wasn't interested in anything more than a friendship with you. But the more I knew you, the more time we spent together . . . then when you were almost taken from me anyway, I realized just how much you've come to mean to me. I know we haven't known each other very long, but when I look to my future, Glenys, you're at my side."

The elf was overcome by his words and felt her eyes tear up.

"I never imagined I'd meet a woman I wanted to give myself to," Vorstag continued, "let alone a high elf who got over her head in a conspiracy that didn't even involve her." They both chuckled at that. "But I have. I want you, Glenys. All of you. For as long as the gods give us."

"You have me, Vorstag," she replied, meeting his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. When they pulled away, she continued. "Are you certain? I mean, our lifespans . . ."

He interrupted her. "I should be the one asking you that. I'm the one that will age twice as fast as you. I'm the one who will be an old man while you're still in your prime, who will leave you alone in this life even if I survive until old age takes me. It's inevitable."

"I don't care about that," Glenys replied. "Since the moment we met, I've been drawn to you. There's never been anyone else who had that affect on me. Back in Aldmeris, there was someone my father wanted me to marry, and I was considering it until everything happened. But there was no love there. Barely any attraction. It was security, practicality, hoping to please my father . . . You've reached a piece of me I've never felt before, and I will spend the rest of your life at your side if you'll have me."

"Sounds like a plan, love," Vorstag said, pulling her close. "Think of the adventures we'll have."

She chuckled into his chest, enjoying the feeling of his rough hands stroking up and down her spine. "Will you help me find my family?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered softly. "I'll do everything in my power to help reunite you and your siblings, my love."

* * *

The new couple had returned the statue to a very grateful and surprised Lisbet who rewarded them well and had just returned to the inn to have their midday meal when a city guard approached them.

"Glenys," he stated, standing at attention, "the Jarl wishes to see you."

The elf cast a glance at Vorstag. Both were uneasy. What if he was still holding her accountable? But when a Jarl of a hold requested your audience, there's little you could do to avoid it. Vorstag insisted on accompanying her, and they followed the guard to the throne room in Understone Keep.

Like the last time Glenys had visited the throne room, the Redguard woman stood guard, and the elderly steward sat in his chair. This time, though, she focused on the Jarl as she approached.

Jarl Igmund was a balding man of advanced age, but his warrior past was obvious in his build and stance. He greeted her warmly and introduced himself. "I wish to apologize for your arrest and the false accusations my guards brought against you," he said. "It is clear now who was behind the murders. The guards involved have been dealt with, and the remnants of the Silver-Blood family will be watched closely. Their business has been taken and placed in the control of the Empire, and I hope this mess hasn't poisoned you against our beautiful city."

"Not at all," Glenys replied. "I am fascinated with the city and am only glad that justice has been served, and perhaps that I helped the people of Markarth feel a bit safer in their streets. I plan to stay in the city for the foreseeable future. I have ties here now." She glanced toward Vorstag, and the Jarl smiled.

"I see," he commented. "Well, then, perhaps you will take me up on my offer. I have room in my court for a new Thane. It's a decorative title mostly, though I may ask for your assistance from time to time. With it comes respect and property within the city, and it is my honor to bestow the title upon you after the service you've provided us. Will you accept?"

"It would be my honor, sir," she answered with a smile.

The Jarl titled her and handed over her badge of office, an enchanted weapon known as the Blade of the Reach. He explained that arrangements for her new home could be made through the steward, and then he turned to her companion. "You are Vorstag, correct?" he asked. "The sellsword?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"I have a couple of errands I have yet to find anyone worthy of completing," the Jarl explained. "If you are interested, I will pay you well for your service."

Vorstag accepted, and the Jarl explained the jobs. There were two. The first was to bring about the death of the leader of a Forsworn camp located at Serpent's Bluff Redoubt. That particular group of Forsworn was apparently attacking travelers, even common folk, and the Jarl wished for it to stop. The second job was to steal his father's shield from the Hagraven's who now possessed it. Hrolfdir's shield had been stolen from the keep by a Forsworn agent many years before, and the Jarl had only recently learned of its location at Bleakwind Bluff.

Both jobs would be dangerous, but Vorstag wasn't worried. He'd taken on the Forsworn and Hagravens before and had no problem doing so again, especially if it meant earning the Jarl's respect and getting a hefty payment.

The home in Markarth was a gift accompanying her new title, as was, apparently, a housecarl - a warrior from the Jarl's own guard whose duty was now to protect Glenys, her family, and her possessions. Furnishing the home, however, would cost coin. After a lengthy conversation with Raerek going over her options, Glenys handed over a large portion of her gold and was assured her new home would be ready for residency by the start of the following week.

Later, as Glenys stood outside the city gate, watching Vorstag mount his large warhorse for his journey for the Jarl, she felt a sense of completion. Although she'd lost her siblings and the only home she had ever known, she had gained quite a lot in the last few weeks. She had earned the respect of a Jarl, was forming friendships with a few of the city's residents, and had found the love of a wonderful, brave man. She owned her own home, and she found, although she missed her siblings terribly and worried after them, she was content and looking forward to her future.

The barking from the dogs at the stables drew her attention. Perhaps, when she was no longer staying at the inn, she could give Vigilance, or one of his litter mates if he had already been purchased, a place in her new home.

 **Author's Note: That is the end of the first part of Glenys' tale. If you haven't read the first parts of her sisters (Aerenwen, Mari, Nesta, and Elain), they can be found on my profile. In the coming days, I will begin posting the first part of the final sibling, the only brother, Steffen.**


	9. Nimhe

Part Two: Hearthfire

Chapter One: Nimhe (Tirdas, 1st of Hearthfire)

Glenys had fallen into a routine in Markarth. She and Vorstag had moved into her new home the day before. The view outside the door was her favorite part of it. It was the highest residence in the city, and she'd had a bench placed on the landing at the top of the stairs. The view of the city and the surrounding mountains was glorious. The house itself was nice, though it wasn't something she would have chosen. Being a Dwemer structure, it had no windows, but for Markarth, that was the norm, and it was a fine house by the city's standards. All in all, she was pleased to have a safe place to lay her head at night and devoted a corner of the main room to various bookshelves which she soon hoped to line with tomes and continue her hobby of research.

Argis the Bulwark was her housecarl, nicknamed such, she assumed, because of his massive size. He was the largest Nord she had encountered. At first, she found him a bit intimidating, what with his size and fierce, warrior appearance, but she soon found, much like Vorstag, he had a heart of gold and a soft demeanor. She was thankful he was in her service to provide security in her home, and Vorstag was pleased she would have someone to watch over her when his business took him out of town.

Glenys' days were spent getting acquainted with the city and its residents, and she spent a great deal of time exploring Calcelmo's museum. She'd read of the Dwemer in the past, though most of her research and the expeditions she had worked on back in her homeland had revolved around the Ayleids, and she found their culture fascinating and marveled at seeing it up close. She hoped the old Altmer would allow her to aid him in his expeditions and seemed to be winning him over.

On this morning, like most, she found him outside the ruins of Nchuand-Zel. He was barking out orders at his nephew, a self-entitled young Altmer called Aicanter whom Nesta had only had brief encounters with.

"Oh, Glenys, good morning," the old man greeted with a smile. "Forgive my foul mood. We lost another mercenary to that damned spider. My research is halted until she's taken care of, and I can't find anyone competent enough to get rid of her."

"Perhaps I could be of some help," she offered.

"You?" Aicanter scoffed.

She shot him a dirty look. "No, but I have a friend who I'm sure could handle Nimhe. He just returned from taking out a band of Forsworn for the Jarl."

"If your friend would help us, I would be in his debt," Calcelmo replied. "He will be paid for his services."

Glenys nodded.

She found Vorstag sitting on the bench outside their home. He was surprised to see her.

"I figured I'd lost you to the old man and his research for the day," he teased as he stood and wrapped her in his arms.

She smiled. "I actually have a job for you from him," she replied. "There's a giant frostbite spider in the ruin. They call her Nimhe, and she's brought the excavation to a halt. He offered to pay you for her disposal, and it would gain me some favor with the old man."

He nodded and retrieved his sword, following the elf back to the keep.

* * *

"Stay out here," Vorstag instructed when they approached the entrance to the cavern where Nimhe had made her home.

Glenys nodded. Though she didn't like the idea of Vorstag taking on a spider with such a death toll on his own, she knew she would only be a distraction if she followed him. He disappeared into the cavern, and she listened as the sound of a battle ensued accompanied by Vorstag's shouts and the spider's shrieks.

A short time later, the Nord called out to her. "You can come in! She's dead."

The sight of the massive spider carcass made Glenys shiver. She'd never seen such a large body. Vorstag was setting fire to the egg sacs littered throughout the room, preventing Nimhe's progenies from hatching. Glenys glanced around the cavern, which was mostly empty. A door on the opposite side was heavily covered with the spider's silken webs and a decimated carcass, still wearing the uniform of an Imperial soldier, lay nearby. She approached it, tapping it lightly with the toe of her boot, and checked his pockets.

A note addressed to someone called Salonia was there, and Glenys read it. The soldier had apparently been hired to guard an expedition into Nchuand-Zel. The soldier's name was Alethius, and she muttered a few quiet words of respect over his dead body before pocketing the note.

"Ready to go?" Vorstag wondered as he approached her.

She was itching to delve further into the ruins but nodded, knowing it was best to let Calcelmo know the spider would no longer be a problem.

* * *

The old man was beyond grateful as he paid Vorstag and ranted about how he would be able to get back to work, finally. Glenys waited until he was finished before showing him the note.

"Hmmm," he commented as he read it over. "Where did you find this?"

"On a corpse in the spider's lair," she replied.

"He must have been someone from Staubin's little group," he stated, passing the note back to her. "A brave scholar . . . but not very wise. I assume you're anxious to do some exploring of your own?"

Glenys nodded.

"Very well," he replied. "You've proven your usefulness and loyalty. If you find anything useful, please bring it to me, including any notes you may find from Staubin's group. I doubt he's alive. It was weeks ago they wandered into the ruins, but there's a chance they uncovered some useful information before meeting their demise."

* * *

"I take it we're exploring that ruin," Vorstag commented as they left Understone Keep hand in hand.

"If you don't mind," Glenys replied. "I would very much like to see what is in there. I'm so fascinated by the Dwemer, and this city barely scratches the surface of their constructions."

"Where you go, I go," he replied with a shrug, "though we may want to invite Argis along with us. It's hard to say what dangers we will face within the mountain."


	10. Nchuand-Zel

Chapter Two: Nchuand Zel (Middas, Second of Hearthfire; Turdas, Third of Hearthfire)

"I've never seen anything like this," Argis commented in awe.

Indeed, Nchuand Zel was amazing. The three explorers stood atop a ramp gazing out over the underground city after having found their way through the Markarth ruins. Various buildings and towers reached great heights with narrow ramps stretching between them. The entire city was built within an underground cavern that was lit by bioluminescent mushrooms lining the ceiling and walls of the cavern like underground stars. Glenys had never seen anything like it either. It far surpassed her expectations, and as remarkable as the Ayleid ruins she had explored on Auridon had been, they paled in comparison to this great Dwemer city.

They began to descend the ramp, Vorstag taking the lead with Argis at the back, protectively sandwiching Glenys between them. Suddenly, Vorstag held up a hand, signaling the others to stop. He placed his finger over his lips and pointed toward a stooped figure prowling around on the platform below them. "Falmer," he mouthed.

Glenys had read of the Falmer. They were once a great race of elves, much like her own, who were called the Snow Elves because of their choice of locale - the snow-covered mountain ranges to the north of Skyrim and Morrowind. They had fought against the Nords, the Chimer, and the Dwemer to maintain their hold on their lands, but when it looked like defeat was imminent, they asked the Dwemer for help. Their elven cousins agreed to hide them within their underground cities, but they tricked them, feeding them some sort of fungus that caused blindness. From them on, the Snow Elves became slaves to the Dwemer, and after centuries of living below the ground, they were now the Falmer - a grotesque, blind race who prowled the shadows, fed on humans, and struck fear into the hearts of those who dwelled on the surface. They roamed the ancient ruins as well as caves they had found access to because of their proximity to the underground cities, and any unprepared explorer who delved into the depths often found themselves at their mercy.

She watched as Vorstag strung his bow and took the Falmer out silently before the bent and ugly creature had even realized they were there. They approached it, traveling quietly now that they knew they were not the only ones in the ruins. The Falmer had excellent hearing, and if they were not careful and quiet, they would find themselves surrounded. Glenys bent down and studied the deformed elf.

All elves, or mer, in Tamriel shared a common ancestry. They descended from the ancient Aldmer who had traveled from the continent of Old Ehlnofey and settled in the Summerset Isles off the western coast of mainland Tamriel where her people still lived. Her race, the Altmer, were said to be the most like the Aldmer in appearance, most likely because the climate in their home was the most similar to the ancestral home of the Aldmer thus making evolutionary changes to adapt to their environment unnecessary. The other races of elves had evolved from them to adapt to their new homes as they splintered off and settled throughout Tamriel. The Maomer, or Sea Elves, resided on islands to the south and west of Tamriel. Though similar to the Altmer in appearance, they had battled each other for generations. The Bosmer, or Wood Elves, had a darker skin and a significantly smaller stature and made their home in the dense and mystical forests of Valenwood. The Chimer had settled in the northeast in Morrowind and Skyrim and traitorous acts against their daedric lord Azura had transformed them years ago into a gray-skinned, red-eyed race now known as the Dunmer, or Dark Elves. The now extinct Dwemer, or Dwarves, had taken their cities underground where they explored miracles of science and engineering that rivaled the gods themselves; and finally, the Snow Elves, whose ancestral name had been lost in time, had evolved into the twisted Falmer.

According to her reading, the ancestors of the dead man lying before her had once looked much like she did. Their skin and hair were paler. The white-blonde hair of her sister Mari had been the norm amongst the Snow Elves, but they were once tall and beautiful, elegant and stately like her Altmer brethren. Now they were short and hunched. Their pointed ears were larger, allowing their hearing to improve. Their eyes, though sightless, were large and black, and their skin was a sickly gray. Their noses were small, almost non existent aside from large nostrils. His hands were bent and topped with nails like talons, and his teeth were small and pointed. Though the race had held onto magical abilities and crafted their own weapons, they were no doubt formidable opponents even without those skills. His hair was nearly absent, just a few sprigs sticking out of an otherwise bald skull. This man wore nothing but a loin cloth, and Glenys wondered at their culture and language. How had a civilized group become so primitive? Yes, they were slaves. Yes, they were confined to their underground prisons, but what had caused them to completely abandon their previous ways in favor of such a base lifestyle.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when Vorstag pulled at her arm. He nodded toward a door. "If you want to keep exploring, we should continue on," he whispered. "They'll smell him soon."

She nodded and followed.

They entered the first building they came to, Vorstag and Argis taking care of any Falmer they came across as they crept through the ill-lit ruins. This building appeared to be a residence of some sort, dividided into various living areas. It appeared that several family groups had probably dwelled within the building.

The building was filled with traps, and the Falmer had set up their own dwellings within it - rustic rounded tents. It was here that they found two corpses who had obviously belonged to the expedition they were following. One was a guard, the other appeared to have been a mage or scholar, perhaps both. Glenys searched them while her lover and housecarl stood guard and discovered a diary on the mage, revealing this man to have been named Stromm. He had opted to stay behind with the guard to research the dwellings further and had written his findings within his diary. Glenys pocketed the book to read at length later and give it to Calcelmo, as well as a few artifacts she found within the quarters that appealed to her.

"I think that's everything in here," she commented.

Vorstag nodded. "Let's continue on then before we meet the same fate as these men," he replied. "I don't much like the feeling of being trapped down here."

Back out in the caverns, the travelers found the next portion of the passageway to have been flooded. They waded through the murky water and then swam to the next building. Inside, along with several more Falmer, they encountered weapons, armor, and many inactive Dwemer automatons. Glenys had read that these ancient creations still worked in the ruins, even hundreds of years after the disappearance of their creators, and she wondered why these were still.

As they explored, they encountered a few more dead guards from the previous expedition as well as another researcher. Finding his notes on his corpse, Glenys discovered his name had been Erj.

They continued on to the next building, full of steaming pipes and dozens more Falmer. Vorstag and Argis were growing more and more concerned. They had long ago realized they were surrounded and feared finding their way back to the surface may not be easy.

It wasn't long before they found themselves cornered in a room containing the corpse of Staubin himself. Glenys flipped through his diary, skimming its contents while the men whispered anxiously.

"There's too many who have followed us," Vorstag said. "We cannot go back the way we came."

"This appears to be a dead end," Argis stated. He glanced around the stone-walled room in distress, fearing they would meet their end in the dark, confines of Skyrim's underground recesses.

"I have an idea," Glenys piped up.

The men turned to her curiously.

"Staubin knew they were outnumbered by the Falmer as well," she explained, holding up his diary. "He wanted to turn the automatons on."

"I don't want to battle one of those giant centurions," Argis commented. "I've heard horrible tales. They're stronger than six men and spit steam that will melt your flesh off."

Glenys nodded. "But they'll take on the Falmer," she replied. "We can sneak back through while they're distracted fighting each other. That was Staubin's plan, but he never made it to the controls."

Vorstag nodded. "The plan has merit. It's risky, but it may be our only chance."

The men guarded Glenys, the elf sandwiched between them as they climbed a ramp. They took out a lone Falmer and found themselves in a small room with a lever in the center of it.

"That it?" Vorstag asked.

"I think so," Glenys replied. She stepped forward and gripped the lever with both hands while the men guarded the door. She pulled. It was a bit stiff from years of remaining in one position, but after a few attempts, she succeeded. Loud mechanical sounds filled the space around them as pumps and gears began to work again, and whatever mysterious machinations that controlled the automatons began running.

They slunk through the shadows, retracing their steps out of the building. When they reached the cavern, the sounds of battle filled the air. Falmer fought Dwarven spider machines, mechanical warriors who appeared out of metallic spheres, and giant centurions in the visage of the Dwemer themselves. The plan had worked, and although they needed to fight a few spiders on their way back to the surface, for the most part, they were able to avoid the fray, watching as the Falmer and the automatons fought.

They were nearly to the entrance when Vorstag took out a spider, and Glenys stood over it, looking curious.

"You want to bring it with us, don't you?" he asked with a sigh.

"I'm really curious as to how they work," she replied. "I'd like to take it apart."

Vorstag nodded and hefted the heavy machine onto his shoulder. "Let's go."

They found Calcelmo back in main cavern of Understone Keep with Aicanter. It was early morning. Their explorations had taken all of the previous day and night, and exhaustion was beginning to catch up with Glenys now that she was safe.

The old man was thrilled with the notes and diaries Glenys had found, though sad to hear of the fate of his former research partner. He handed over a large bag of gold to Vorstag and gushed that these notes would add to his own research immensely.

Aicanter gazed in awe at the mechanical spider slung over Vorstag's shoulder. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked.

Glenys shrugged. "I want to take it apart. See if I can figure out what makes it work."

"Could I, perhaps, help?" the young Altmer asked. "You could have access to our laboratory and research space. I've always been fascinated by the automatons."

Glenys nodded and shrugged. "Very well," she replied, "but I need your word that you will not perform any research or experiments on it when I am not present."

Aicanter looked annoyed, but his uncle glared at him. "It's truly the least you could do, considering this remarkable young woman has brought back such a complete specimen."

He nodded, agreeing, and led the trio to the museum where he then unlocked a door that led to their quarters and research lab. "My uncle keeps most of his research locked in the tower," he explained. "He's rather paranoid."

Glenys chuckled. She'd picked up on that much herself.

Vorstag laid the spider out on a table in a small room, and he and Argis took their leave, allowing the two Altmer to begin their research.

"Where should we begin?" Aicanter asked.

"We take it apart," Glenys replied, "see what's inside, and then we try to put it back together. I know there's an excellent chance we won't be able to get it to work, but perhaps, by dissecting it, we can uncover a few of their secrets."

Aicanter nodded his agreement, and they set to work.


	11. The Spider

Chapter Three: The Spider (Morndas, 7 Hearthfire)

Glenys and Aicanter spent all of their time over the next several days working on the spider. They disassembled it, discovering some precious minerals and a filled soul gem at its core. They theorized that some sort of electroharmonic signature sent out by the crystals found within Dwemer ruins reacted with the gem and minerals and gave the automaton life. Calcelmo happened to have a few of those crystals in his museum, and they were anxious to see if they could get the spider to function again.

While Glenys reassembled the spider, replacing the damaged pieces with replicas from the museum, Aicanter constructed a staff with one of these crystals atop it. The first two crystals they tried had no effect, but through trial and error, the third worked. Pointing the staff at the spider caused it to awaken, and it could be directed to move around the room, following the beam of energy emenating from the crystal.

Glenys dubbed the spider Zel, in honor of his former home, and spent hours leading him around the museum and laboratory. For some reason, they still could not get him to function outside, and Calcelmo felt that, somehow, the crystal and the spider only worked there.

"It would explain why the automatons have not ventured outside of the underground cities where they were created," he theorized. "Perhaps their construction somehow ties them to a particular place, and the variations in the electroharmonic energy elsewhere cause it to cease functioning. It is still a mystery to us as to how all of this works. The Dwemer had uncovered secrets that we can't even begin to comprehend."

Zel, for the most part, was docile, though there was one incident while Aicanter was wielding the staff when he got into an argument with one of the museum guards. Zel attacked.

"It's as if it can sense hostile intent against its master!" Aicanter gushed afterward while the guard was nursing his wounds.

"That would make sense," Glenys agreed. "The Dwemer had to have some way to control them. They couldn't have their creations attacking them as they lived their day to day lives. There has to be some way for them to detect intruders and hostile intent."

The researchers summized that this particular spider had been one of the Dwemer's spider workers, rather than a spider guardian. He was weak and didn't inflict much damage on the guard he had attacked, so he had probably been used to make repairs to their machinery and boilers.

Aicanter dove into research on electroharmonics. He had high hopes of grasping the concept and finding a way to replicate the science above ground. Glenys, however, felt satisfied with having gotten Zel to work at all. She spent a few hours each day with the spider and swore the machine had a personality of its own. She wondered if, perhaps, the Dwemer had once used their creations as companions - like a pet - and not just as workers and guards.

 **Author's Note: Sort of an anti-climactic chapter, but it's necessary to lay some groundwork. More on Glenys soon. This part of her story is almost done.**


	12. Fortunate Collision

Chapter Four: Fortunate Collision (Morndas, 13 Hearthfire)

Glenys was in a foul mood as she made her way through the city. Aicanter exhausted every last ounce of her patience. He was a prime example of why her race had the reputation they possessed. If he wasn't lording over her research and staking claims on her own discoveries with the spider, he was belittling her and the fact that she had chosen a simple Nord as her companion.

That day had been no different. The man had been working outside the ruins with his uncle when Glenys had arrived at the keep, so she had hoped to have some time alone with Zel. She'd had a few ideas she wanted to try, but it wasn't long before Aicanter had interrupted her quiet time, and she'd ended up leaving the museum in a huff.

The elf was lost in her thoughts as she ascended one of the many sets of stone steps within the city and startled as she, quite literally, bumped into someone. She looked up, ready to apologize - she hadn't exactly been paying attention to where she was going, after all - but was even more startled when she met the shocked gaze of her darkest haired sister.

"Elain!?" she gasped.

Elain's shock turned to pure glee as she quickly embraced the other woman. "Glenys! By the gods, am I glad to see you!"

Glenys led her sister to her home where they found Argis sharpening a sword near the hearth in the sitting room. She introduced them and watched as her elder sister glanced around the home.

"How on Nirn did you end up in Markarth?" Elain asked. "And a property-owner?"

Glenys smiled and related her tale to Elain. "When I arrived in Helgen after we were separated, I saw a large group of Thalmer entering the town and was too afraid to follow," she began, "so I continued on to Whiterun. After spending the night there, I learned of Helgen's destruction from a band of Khajit merchants camped outside the city. I wasn't sure what to do, but they offered for me to travel with them. I found them fascinating and wanted to learn more, and when I learned that Markarth was their destination, I just had to say yes. The opportunity to explore a city built within an ancient Dwemer ruin! How could I have said no?"

Elain chuckled.

"After I arrived, I ended up over my head in a conspiracy," Glenys continued. "The city, its mine, and many of its businesses are owned by the Silver-Blood family, and one of the brothers had the king of the Forsworn as a prisoner. He was using him, having him command his minions to take out any competition in the name of the Forsworn. To make a long story short, it ended with my accomplace dead and me imprisoned in Cidhna Mine where I met the king himself. With his help, I realized that the Forsworn are just as much victims as the Nords. There is no good or bad side in that war. It's all horrible. They helped me escape and clear my name, the guilty Silver-Blood brother was killed, the Mine was turned over to Imperial control, and I received a Thaneship and this home from the Jarl. I also met Vorstag during it all. He's a Nord mercenary, and he lives here with Argis and me." She smiled when she spoke of Vorstag, and Elain smirked.

"Will I get to meet this Vorstag?" Elain wondered. "He has to pass the sibling scrutiny, after all," she teased.

Glenys chuckled. "I'm sure he'll be home soon. I'm not aware of any plans taking him outside the city today." She served her sister from the pot of venison stew brewing over the fire. "Now, tell me what's going on with you. What brings you to Markarth?"

"Well, when I arrived in Helgen, it was already destroyed," Elain began. "I had backtracked Bruma, hoping some of you had done the same. Outside the city, I encountered a Stormcloak rebel, called Ralof, who knew Aerenwen. She had been taken prisoner with him, and he believed she had escaped from the dragon. He offered for me to travel to Windhelm with them, which I did. There, I solved a string of murders and brought the killer down. In return, much like you, I received a thaneship and a home from the Jarl. I encountered Nesta not long after. She's living in Riften and doing fairly well for herself and was in Windhelm on business."

Glenys nodded, pleased to now know the location of at least two of her siblings.

"How I ended up in Markarth is a bit of a mystery," Elain explained. "I was in Riften and encountered a man at the inn who wanted me to have a drinking contest with him. I did, and the night is a blurry mix of intoxicated memories. Somehow, I ended up here, though how I made the trip so quickly, I have no idea. I awoke in the temple of Dibella with Sam, the man, nowhere to be found. Now, I'm off to Rorikstead to try and figure out what all happened last night. A priestess said I mentioned it in my drunken state."

Glenys chuckled and shook her head. Leave it to Elain - or Nesta, for that matter - to have a story like that.

Soon, Vorstag arrived. He was surprised, at first, to see a stranger in their home, but seemed pleased and was welcoming when she was introduced as one of Glenys' sisters. Glenys was happy with how well he and Elain got along. Of all the siblings, Elain was the least trusting of outsiders, and if she was at ease in Vorstag's presence, there was no doubt the others would be as well.

Although Glenys offered for Elain to spend the night, her elder sister declined, stating she wished to visit the temple again before she left. Glenys watched from her doorway as her sister descended the stairs toward the city, having promised to write when she returned to Windhelm and if she heard of anymore of their siblings' whereabouts.

Vorstag approached Glenys from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his strong body. "You must feel better, knowing at least one of them is okay."

"Two of them," Glenys ammended. "Elain has seen Nesta," she explained. "She's living in Riften." She sighed and smiled, turning in his arms and gazing up at him. "She promised to keep in touch, and I know she will. Elain keeps her promises, and I know if any of us can find the rest of our siblings, it will be her."

Vorstag smiled. "You'll all be together again before you know it."

Glenys smiled and nodded as she rested her head on her lover's shoulder. Skyrim was still a strange, alien land, but it looked as though her siblings were all finding their way and place to belong just as she had. Something told her they were all alive and well.

 **Author's Note: So this is a short one . . . sort of a re-cap of what has happened, and Glenys finally encountering one of her siblings. I was inspired to post it because of a review. I haven't abandoned these stories. I fully intend to finish them, but as we all know, life sometimes gets in the way. I've had a super busy few weeks with work, and with the holidays upon us, I haven't had much down time for writing. Vacation starts soon, so I'm hoping that in amongst all of my celebrating with family, I can find the time to edit and post what I've already written and add some more as well. Send me another review for a kick in the butt if you think I'm getting lazy ;)**


	13. The Skald

Chapter Five: The Skald (Turdas, 16 Hearthfire)

Glenys was bustling about her large kitchen, preparing a venison stew for their guest. Ogmund the Skald, Vorstag's friend and mentor, was joining them for the evening, and Glenys was excited to meet him. She'd seen the old Nord around town a few times, but he'd been traveling a bit as of late, so she hadn't made his acquaintance. Not to mention, she hesitated to speak with the man publically. Ogmund was on the Thalmor's radar as a Talos worshipper, and she feared if the emissary knew they were friends, it would either raise suspicion on her part or cause the Altmer official to further ask her for help in having the man arrested. She had no desire to help, and, aside from their initial greeting, had managed to avoid the Thalmor in the city. She wished to keep that up.

Despite Ogmund's advanced age, there was nothing frail about the old man. His long hair was white, but his body was still solid muscles. He had a friendly smile and an infectious laugh, and Glenys found that she truly enjoyed his company.

They spent the evening enjoying the food that Glenys had prepared and listening to the old Skald weave his tales.

"I'm wondering if you have ever met my uncle," the elf stated after a time. "His name is Borir, and he is a skald like you. The last we knew, he was here in Skyrim."

Ogmund smiled. "Yes, I do know your uncle, lass," he replied, "though I haven't seen him in years. The last I knew, he had traveled to the island of Solstheim."

Glenys nodded. That would explain why none of her siblings had come across him in his travels. She knew of Solstheim, an island to the north in the Sea of Ghosts. It was technically a part of Morrowind and had a large population of Dunmer, but there was a native Nord population there as well because of its proximity to Skyrim.

"Solstheim is an interesting land," Ogmund stated. "I traveled there years ago. There are these odd little creatures there called Rieklings. When I was there, I encountered a band of them. Fierce little creatures. They're not very strong, but what they lack for in size and strength, they make up in ferocity and numbers . . ."

With that, the old man dove into a story about his adventures on the northern island. Glenys listened intently, wondering if her uncle was still there.

 **Author's Note: Another short chapter, setting us up for something much further down the road. There isn't a lot going on in Markarth at the moment. I only have one more chapter planned for Glenys during this period of updates, and then we'll be moving on to Steffen.**


	14. House of Horrors

Chapter Six: House of Horrors (Sundas, 26th of Hearthfire)

Sundas was a quiet day in Markarth. It was the only day of the week when the market and mine were closed, and most folk stayed close to home, enjoying their families and some hard-fought leisure time. It was no different for Glenys who had spent a lazy morning with Vorstag. They hadn't even pulled themselves out of bed until nearly noon.

It was a beautiful day, one of those days in early autumn that still held the sun's warmth, but the breeze in the air hinted at the cooler weather to come. Glenys had decided to take a walk and enjoy the weather, allowing her newly acquired pup, Finn, to stretch his legs while she wandered the unusually empty streets.

She wasn't far from home when a man in blue robes approached her.

"Excuse me, but do you know anything about this house?" he asked.

Glenys shook her head. "I'm still relatively new to the city," she replied, "but from what I know, it's abandoned. Has been for some time."

"You've never seen anyone enter or leave?" he asked.

"No," she answered with another shake of her head.

"Damn," the man muttered. "Seems no one in this city has."

Glenys knew she was probably, once again, poking her nose where it shouldn't belong, but she couldn't resist her curiosity. "Why are you asking?"

"My name is Tyranus. I'm with the Vigil of Stendarr," the man explained. "We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth."

"I've never seen anything unusual around the house to hint at such a thing," Glenys stated, staring up at the guilded door with curiosity, "but I will keep my eye out. How fascinating that something like that could be going on with no one the wiser."

The man frowned and nodded his agreement. "I was actually just about to head inside. It would be good to have someone watch my back if you're interested."

Glenys knew she should say no. She was well aware she should not get herself mixed up in another mess, especially one that possibly involved Daedra. She'd been lucky to get herself out of the last mess in one piece. And she was also well aware if whatever was going on in this house didn't kill her, Vorstag or her sisters probably would as soon as they'd discovered what she volunteered to do . . . but Glenys had read so much about the Daedra and their worship. The opportunity to see it firsthand? That was not something she was willing to pass up.

"I'm Glenys," she informed him.

He shook her hand and unlocked the door. "Stay close and keep your eyes open. Daedra are powerful creatures and tricksters. You never know what you'll find."

Glenys told Finn to stay outside the door and followed the man inside.

The interior of the house was in disarray and covered in dust, but it didn't look entirely abandoned. Tyranus noticed this as well.

"Fresh food," he stated as he glanced over the contents of a bookshelf. "No wood rot on the furniture. Someone's been here . . . recently. Yet no one has ever seen anyone enter or leave. . ."

"Perhaps they do so under the cover of night," Glenys suggested. She ran a long, thin finger through a layer of dust on the mantle and wrinkled her nose at it.

Suddenly, a large thump could be heard in the next room, and the two hurried toward the sound. Glenys followed the Vigilant down a set of stairs where they reached a locked door.

Tyranus began pounding on it. "Come out!" he yelled. "We know you're here!" He turned toward Glenys. "See if you can get that other door opened."

The elf nodded and made her way toward the other door. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, furniture began to fly around them. Glenys ducked, barely avoiding a flying chair, and watched in shocked fascination as other household objects catapulted across the room and against the wall.

"Stendarr's Mercy!" Tyranus yelled, obviously frightened. "This isn't an ordinary Daedra. We have to get help."

He immediately made toward the front door, and Glenys followed. The door was now locked, and the elf's heart sank as she realized she probably should have fought her curiosity a little bit harder this time.

A deep voice echoed in her head. "Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him."

Glenys shook her head and tried the door again.

"No. Kill him. Crush his bones. Tear at his flesh. You will kill. You will kill, or you will die!"

Glenys glanced at the Vigilant and realized he was shaking his head, his hands clasped over his ears. "Get out of my head, Daedra!" He turned toward Glenys. "The Daedra has us. I'm sorry, but it's you or me." He pulled his sword as the elf looked on with wide eyes, and she dove behind the table when he attempted to strike her.

"Well fuck," she muttered. Her eyes landed on the iron poker beside the fireplace, and she grasped it, deciding it was the closest thing to a weapon she would find.

In his frenzy, Tyranus had crossed the room but was facing away from the elf, and she took the opportunity to use all of her strength to drive the poker through the man's back. He fell to the floor, and she stood frozen, gazing at the blood on her hands and the dead body before her.

"Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down."

Glenys shook her head. "Fuck you," she spat.

The furniture had ceased flying, and the door was unlocked. She ran outside and didn't stop until she was within her house and in Vorstag's arms.

Her lover held her, confused and concerned, as she sobbed into his chest. "I killed him. I killed him, Vorstag. I didn't have a choice. I killed him."

 **Author's Note: That's the last part of this installment of Glenys' story. Steffen will be up next.**


	15. Molag Bal

Part Three: Frostfall

Chapter 1: Molag Bal (Middas, Turdas, Fridas; First, Seond, Third of Frostfall)

Vorstag was worried. It had been several days since Glenys' horrible experience within the abandoned house, and she had barely emerged from their bedroom. Most of her time was spent curled beneath the thick furs on the stone bed with Finn standing guard by her side. Her sleep was plagued with nightmares, and Vorstag feared that it wasn't just what she had endured, the memories of the haunted house and killing the Vigilant, but also the Daedra who haunted her. He feared Glenys was now under the Daedra's spell. She had done its bidding, though she'd had no choice but to do so for her own survival, and the prince would no doubt not release his hold over her until she had finished the task.

He would never ask her to do this. Vorstag would never wish for anyone, even an enemy, to go into dealings with a Daedric Prince, but he feared they had no choice but to see this task, whatever it was, through. He shut the door to the bedroom behind him, content that, at least for the moment, the woman he loved was sleeping soundly, and made his way to the small room where he kept his armor and weaponry. Once he was outfitted, he wandered outside.

Argis was sitting in the wooden chair just outside the doorway, perched atop the flat area between the stairs and the entrance to their home - one of the highest points in the city - sharpening his sword on a wetstone. He worried for his Thane as well, and the concern he had was visible in the dark coloring beneath his eyes and the deep wrinkles on his brow.

"I'm going to the house," Vorstag informed him.

Argis nodded and didn't seem at all surprised by the revelation. "You should not go alone," he simply stated.

"I must. You are to stay and watch over Glenys. The dog is with her now."

Again, the housecarl nodded. "May the Aedra watch over you, friend. You are off to deal with darkness."

* * *

The house was in shambles.

Vorstag could see the results of everything Glenys had described to him, from the misplaced furniture, to the corpse of the Vigilant lying in a pool of dried blood. He was glad the body had never been discovered. Even the guards, it seemed, avoided this abandoned house, thinking it haunted. He knew he would need to dispose of the body himself before it was eventually found. Though it was unlikely the crime could be traced back to Glenys, there was no telling for certain whether or not anyone in the city had seen her conversing with the Vigilant or entering the house with him.

He traveled deeper into the house, the feeling of dread climbing up his spine seeming to speed up before it took root between his shoulder blades, causing him to take a defensive stance as the hair on the back of his neck stood at alert. There was a dark energy here, and Vorstag wondered which Daedric Prince he would be dealing with.

Eventually he discovered a tunnel that had been cleared beyond a knocked out portion of the basement's stone wall. It traveled into the earth, deeper within the mountain, twisting and narrowing as he traveled deeper into its depths.

Finally, he came to a stone room with an altar of some sort laid out on a table. A rusty mace sat atop it, and he approached slowly.

Suddenly, tall metal spikes rose from the ground around him, encasing him a cage. He shook at them with all his strength, his palms scraping against the rough, rusty metal, but they didn't budge. He was trapped.

"Fool!" an otherwordly voice echoed around him. It seemed to be everywhere, almost like it was resonating from within his own head. Was this what Glenys had been enduring? The voice that was slowly driving her mad? "You are not the one who has done my bidding. Why are you here?"

"I am her sword," Vorstag replied. "We are a team. She is the brains. I am the brawn. What you would ask of her is something she does not have the will to do."

There was silence for some time, and Vorstag wondered if he had offended the Daedric Prince by coming in Glenys' stead. Finally, it spoke again.

"Very well," the voice answered. "Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, is not one to be easily swayed or to strike bargains, however, I see that you are more physically capable of the task I have in mind. Tell me, mortal. What do you see from your little cage? Speak."

"I see an altar," Vorstag replied, "and a mace atop it."

"Ah yes, it is an altar. Men would come and sacrifice the wretched in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong," Molag Bal explained. "The mace is now rusted, dry. There was a time when it dripped with the blood of the feeble and the worthless, but a Daedric Lord has his enemies. My rival, Boethiah, had her priest desecrate my altar and mace. Left it here to decay. Until you came along . . ."

"So you seek revenge?" Vorstag asked.

"Revenge?" the Daedra bit out. "No. I want submission. I want the priest who did this to bend his knee and give me his soul. He comes by to perform Boethiah's insulting rites at my altar, but he's been missing. Captured and bound, left to rot. Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time, and when he does, I will be waiting for him."

Freeing a priest from captivity? Vorstag could do that. Though he knew it likely meant the priest's death, it was that priest's choice to pledge himself to a Daedra and make an enemy out of another, and this was the only way to gain his own freedom. To gain Glenys' some peace of mind.

"I will do this," he stated solemnly. "I will free this priest."

"Excellent," the Daedric Prince answered with a deep, echoing chuckle. "He is held by the Forsworn at Druadach Redoubt."

The spikes of the cage withdrew into the stone floor, and Vorstag sighed with relief.

* * *

Glenys was not pleased that Vorstag had visited the house and agreed to do Molag Bal's bidding.

"It was the only way to grant you peace," he answered as he knelt beside the bed where she lay. "The Daedra would have never released his hold on you until he got what he wanted."

Glenys nodded. She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit, but she knew that Vorstag was right. "Where do you need to go to find this priest?"

"Druadach Redoubt."

"I'm coming with you," she declared, sitting up.

Finn whined slightly and raised his head up off his paws, watching her curiously.

Vorstag was shaking his head, but Glenys spoke again before he could answer.

"Druadach Redoubt is where Madanach and his followers are camped out," she explained. "They told me I would be greeted as a friend if I were to ever travel there. Perhaps we can get this priest freed without any more unnecessary bloodshed."

Vorstag sighed but nodded his consent. Taking out a few Foresworn was nothing that would weigh on his conscience, despite the sympathies Glenys had developed for them, but if their king was camped there, taking on the camp by himself was foolhardy.

* * *

The trip to Druadach Redoubt had been surprisingly uneventful as the two warriors and the elf traveled on horseback with Finn running alongside them. As they neared their destination, Glenys placed the skull helmet from the set of armor the Foresworn had given her atop her head, hoping it would prevent them from being attacked immediately.

They were approached by two Foresworn at the edge of the camp, a man and a woman both decked out in the full armor of the old gods with war paint and tattoos littering nearly every inch of exposed skin.

"You wear the helm of the old gods," the woman stated, her bow aimed at them. "What is it that you want?"

"I wish to see Madanach," Glenys replied. "Tell him Glenys of Markarth is here."

She nodded and retreated. The man remained with his bow trained on the elf.

Soon, a small group of Foresworn arrived on the hillside. Glenys recognized many of the faces from Cidhna Mine, and Madanach smiled at her from beneath his gray beard.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again," he commented. "What can I do for you, friend?"

"I'm afraid my curiosity has gotten me into a spot of trouble once again," she answered with an embarrassed smile. "I have drawn the attention of Molag Bal, and in order to gain my freedom, I must secure a priest of Boethiah whom you have imprisoned here."

Madanach nodded, a grim look on his face. "Molag Bal is not one to be trifled with, child. What is it he wants with Boethiah's priest?"

"He desecrated an altar in Boethiah's name. Molag Bal wishes for him to bow to his will," she answered.

"And if he isn't delivered?" the old man wondered.

"I fear I will never have peace again," Glenys replied. "The Daedra haunts my dreams. His words echo in my head when I am awake. He will drive me mad."

Madanach frowned but exchanged quiet words with one of his men who retreated back toward their camp. "You were a friend to us in Markarth. Without your efforts there, I would probably still be in Cidhna Mine, and for that, I owe you a debt. We will give you this priest, Glenys, and remember, you have friends amongst the Foresworn."

"Thank you," the elf replied, bowing her head in a show of respect.

Soon, the priest was led to them. He was an elderly Nord, wearing the black, hooded robes of the order of Boethiah. He glared at the Foresworn as they roughly handed him over to Glenys and her warriors, and then his glare was directed at the newcomers. He studied the elf for a moment. She had removed the skull helm, and he, no doubt, was wondering what business an Altmer woman in a fine dress had with him.

"Who sent you?" he asked. "No one knew where I was when I was taken."

Glenys glanced at Vorstag who looked to be waiting on her decision as to how to answer the priest. She decided to lie. If he was truly devoted to Boethiah, he would return to the altar to finish his rites no matter what, but if he wasn't . . . if he valued his life more than his duty to the Daedra, he would run away if he knew they were there at the bidding of Molag Bal.

"Boethiah has sent me," she lied. "You have work to finish."

The priest's eyes widened. "The Dark Mistress sent you? Of course. Molag Bal's altar. I have to get to Markarth at once. Cut me loose."

Vorstag climbed off his horse and cut the priest's binds. He then helped Glenys onto his own horse where they would travel together, allowing the priest to ride atop her own.

"Thank you, Madanach," Glenys stated as she turned back to the Foresworn king from atop Vorstag's horse.

The old man simply nodded and watched as the three horses disappeared into the distance.

* * *

It was well after midnight when the group arrived in Markarth. Once through the gates, the priest immediately rushed to the abandoned house, and Glenys and her warriors followed. They trailed behind him as he hurried into the bowels of the building, kneeling before the altar. The rusted spikes rose around him, trapping him in the cage.

"Molag Bal," the priest growled out. "You think you can best Boethiah's faithful? I have won this contest before!"

The Daedra's chuckle echoed around them. "Ah, but I have my own Champion this time, Logrolf."

The priest turned within his cage, looking on Glenys with shock. "What? You?"

Glenys shrugged and glanced at Vorstag. She liked nothing about this situation.

"Mortal, I give you my mace in all its rusted spitefulness. Crush the spirit from Logrolf's bones. Make him bend to me," Molag Bal ordered.

Glenys stepped forward toward the mace, but Vorstag stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "I will do this," he offered. "You need no more blood on your hands in this Daedra's name."

Glenys nodded and watched in dismay as Vorstag used the old mace to beat the priest to a bloody mess. When the old man would succumb to death, the Daedra would revive him for further beating until, finally, the old man cried out his submission.

"You bend to me?" Molag Bal questioned.

"Yes!" Logrolf cried.

"You pledge your soul to me?"

Again, the priest answered in the affirmative.

"You forsake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?"

"Yes!"

"You're mine now, Logrolf."

With that, Molag Bal commanded Vorstag to put the priest out of his misery, which the warrior did swiftly, with a strike to the head. Suddenly, the old, rusted mace in Vorstag's hand transformed into a black mace of excellent craftsmanship that seemed to glow with an unknown magicka as a black mist swirled around it.

"Behold the Mace of Molag Bal!" the Daedra announced. "I give you its true power, mortal. When your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will be watching. Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming. Take care of the house while I'm gone."

The Daedra's evil laughter echoed around them and was suddenly gone. The air felt cleaner now, no longer holding the heaviness of the evil energy that had been present when the Daedra was amongst them.

Later, after Vorstag had locked the mace in a chest in their home's armory, and the three friends sat beside the roaring fire, the warrior turned to Glenys.

"Promise me something?"

She nodded with a sigh, thankful the ordeal was over.

"Don't go exploring anymore abandoned houses in your curiosity."

"I definitely think I can hold to that promise after this."


	16. Sisterly Business

Chapter Two: Sisterly Business (Loredas, Fourth of Frostfall thru Sundas, 26th of Frostfall)

It was quite late in the evening, and their home was peaceful.

Vorstag had done some work at the abandoned house earlier that day. He had placed the body of the Vigilant alongside the priest's near the altar, and then he and Argis had spent several hours filling the hole in the basement wall with stone. Now the tunnel was hidden, and any clue of the crimes they had committed for the Daedric Prince had been removed. The house would remain abandoned, and hopefully, after a time without the evil energy of Molag Bal, someone would clean it up and decide to live in it again.

Argis had already gone to bed, and Glenys and Vorstag sat together near the fire in the back room of the home. She read, and he was restringing one of his bows. Though archery wasn't his chosen form of combat, he was fairly skilled at it and had decided to give Glenys some lessons.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Finn to rise from his spot near the fire and bark toward the front of the house. Glenys glanced at Vorstag in concern. They rarely received visitors - never at such a late hour.

He stood and made his way toward the door, and Argis emerged from his room, standing guard in the doorway with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Glenys had never seen her housecarl unarmed.

Soon, voices and footsteps could be heard coming up the ramp after the closing of the door had echoed through the house, and Glenys immediately stood up when she recognized the voice of their guest.

"I'm sorry for calling so late," Nesta was apologizing. "I've only just arrived in Markarth."

"No apologies necessary," Glenys heard Vorstag reply. "Glenys will be thrilled to see you. You could come knocking on our door in the middle of the night without bothering us."

Glenys stood waiting where she was. Though she knew her sister's voice and would recognize it anywhere, she seemed frozen from both shock and relief at her sudden appearance.

Vorstag entered the room with a smile. "Nesta is here."

Glenys grinned and rushed into the next room behind him.

Nesta looked good. Her golden blonde hair was braided in one single thick braid down her back, and she wore an unfamiliar set of armor that was comprised of a mix of cotton and leather. She smirked at her younger sister as she crossed the room toward her.

"It's so good to see you!" Glenys exclaimed as the two sisters embraced. "I've only seen Elain, but she told me she'd been in touch with you. Come in. Sit down. Are you hungry?"

Glenys led Nesta over to the two chairs beside the fire and watched as her sister sat down, removing her bow and quiver of arrows and lying them on the floor beside her.

"Famished, actually," she replied with a grin. "I left Whiterun this morning but got a later start than I had hoped. I rode straight through."

Glenys glanced at Vorstag, and he disappeared from the room again, returning after a short time with a bowl of steaming stew and some bread. Nesta thanked him and immediately dug in.

"Nesta, this is Vorstag," Glenys stated with a smile toward the man. "He's, well, for lack of a better term, my lover."

Nesta smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Elain told me you'd found someone."

"And that is Argis, my housecarl," Glenys added with a nod toward the other man who had emerged from the back room and stood in the doorway. "Argis, Vorstag, my sister, Nesta."

They both expressed their happiness to meet the other Altmer before excusing themselves to give the two women some privacy to catch up.

"So what brings you to Markarth?" Glenys asked. "Elain told me you were staying in Riften and that you'd been in Windhelm on business. Is that what brought you this far west as well?"

Nesta nodded. "I travel quite a bit for work."

Glenys tilted her head slightly in curiosity. "And what sort of business has you traveling from one end of Skyrim to the other?"

"A very lucrative business," Nesta replied cryptically.

Glenys raised an eyebrow but knew that she wasn't going to get any more information out of her elder sister. Whatever Nesta was doing wouldn't be shared until she was ready, so Glenys wouldn't pry. "And you're living in Riften? Is that permanent?"

Nesta nodded as she chewed a bite of bread. "I was actually just granted the title of Thane of the Reach and am now the proud owner of a small home within the city's walls. I haven't moved in yet. They're doing some renovations now, but it should be ready when I return from this trip."

Glenys smiled proudly. Her family was doing quite well for themselves. "That's three Thanes in the family."

"Four," Nesta replied with a smirk. "Aerenwen is Thane of Whiterun Hold."

Glenys' golden eyes widened, and she was immediately filled with relief. "You've seen Aerenwen?!"

"I have," Nesta replied. "As I know you learned from Elain, she was captured by the Imperials in a skirmish when we separated. What you don't know yet is that she managed to escape and found herself in Whiterun. She assisted the Jarl with some business involving their research into the dragons' return and has also discovered she's something called Dragonborn."

Glenys gasped. "I've read of that," she informed her.

Nesta grinned. "Yeah, she's sort of a big deal," she said with a chuckle. "Anyway, because of her service and the fact that she's Dragonborn, probably, she was granted the title from the Jarl, and she has a home in Whiterun. I haven't been to visit yet, but Elain has. She's quite the busy woman. I ran into her and Aela in Ivarstead when she was training with the Greybeards."

"High Hrothgar?" Glenys confirmed.

Nesta nodded. "They haven't had a ton of information for her, last I knew, so you should write to her in Whiterun. Share anything you may have read. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"I don't know much," her sister confessed. "Everything I've read was steeped in legend and myth. The facts were lacking. Who's Aela?"

"Aerenwen's lover," Nesta replied with a smirk, "who will almost definitely end up our sister-in-law before too long."

Glenys squealed. "Aerenwen has taken a lover? Like an actual committed relationship?"

Again, Nesta nodded. "They're absolutely smitten with each other and a perfect match. I spent a great deal of time with the woman while we waited for Aerenwen to return down the 7000 steps, and I don't think we could have picked a better match for our sister."

"That makes me so happy," Glenys announced with a sigh.

"Anyway, aside from the Dragonborn business and Aela, Aerenwen has adopted a boy who was orphaned at Helgen. They escaped together, and she took him in. Hamish is his name, though I've yet to meet him, and she's a member of the Companions. That's how she earns her coin, and actually how she and Aela met. Her girl is a rather prominent member, pretty famous, actually, amongst the Nords."

Glenys smiled. "And the others? Any news of them?"

"Mari, yes," Nesta replied, "though all I know is that she's in Falkreath. I actually didn't see much of Elain during my last few days in Windhelm, but she'd left a note telling me that she had seen Aerenwen and learned from her about Mari. Last I knew, Elain was following a lead on Steffen, but I don't know what or where or if anything came of it."

"And you? Tell me about you," Glenys insisted. "What took place with you after our separation? How did you find yourself in Riften?"

"I tracked the soldiers who had captured Aerenwen," Nesta replied. "I was outside Helgen trying to determine how to free her when the dragon attacked, and I'm ashamed to admit that I fled. I ended up in Ivarstead where I lived and worked a farm for a few weeks. It's a nice little town, and I have friends there, but it's sort of a dead end, really. Then I traveled to Riften where I ended up going into business with a merchant, Brynjolf. I've been working with him and earning quite a lot of coin, but I helped uncover and put a halt to an underground skooma trade in the city. That's how I earned my title from the Jarl."

The slight smirk that Nesta wore when she spoke of this man, Brynjolf, caught Glenys' attention. "Can I assume that Brynjolf is a bit more to you than simply a business partner?" she asked.

Nesta chuckled and blushed which thrilled Glenys to no end. There wasn't much that could embarrass Nesta and result in the older woman blushing, but talking about feelings generally did. "Yes, but it's still new," she replied. "I'm not certain where it's going, if anywhere. For the moment, I'm enjoying myself. He's kind and handsome, and the sex is amazing."

This resulted in Glenys' own blush, she was sure, and she glanced away shyly. Glenys had never been as comfortable discussing her romantic entanglements as her other sisters were, not that she had the experience they possessed in that area.

"And what about you?" Nesta teased. "Does Vorstag live up to the opinion Brynjolf is causing me to develop about Nords, or is my Nord an exception? Elain didn't seem satisfied with her one Nord encounter since arriving here."

Glenys blushed redder and chuckled nervously. "I'm quite satisfied, I'll say that much."

Nesta smirked but changed the subject rather than continuing to tease her younger sister. "Now tell me your story," she insisted. "Elain told me a bit, but I'd like to hear it all from you."

And so Glenys shared her tale with Nesta, marveling over the fact that they hadn't run into each other outside of Helgen since they had both apparently been present outside the walls not long before the dragon attack.

After catching up, Nesta offered to return to the inn, but Glenys told her that was ridiculous. Argis gave up his bed for his thane's sister, and Glenys informed her that she was welcome to come and go as she pleased anytime business brought her to Markarth.

* * *

Glenys was curious as to what exactly her sister was up to for business in Markarth. She'd been there for just three days when two business associates had shown up at the door just after dinner. They were introduced to Glenys and her housemates as Rune and Sapphire.

Rune was a Nord, nearly as large as Argis, but with a friendly face and a lively humor. He joked and teased Nesta about how much Brynjolf was apparently missing her and complimented Glenys on her cooking.

Sapphire was much more quiet. She was a pretty woman with bright blue eyes and dark hair, looking to be a mixture of a Nord and a Breton based upon her features. She was polite but withdrawn, though it was clear to Glenys that she and Nesta had a friendship.

It wasn't long after their arrival that Glenys heard the rumors of the Theives' Guild making a comeback in the city. She didn't believe it to be a coincidence, especially when a rune was suddenly carved into the archway outside the door to her house. She'd read of the Guild and their presence in Tamriel and knew a bit about their runes. It didn't take her long to find the proper book in her collection that helped her translate the rune. It meant protected and declared that her home was not to be robbed by members of the guild.

Her suspicions were confirmed one night when she overheard Vorstag confronting Nesta during one of the many times her elder sister was sneaking out of the house. They had been privy to her coming and going in the wee hours of the morning but hadn't let her know they were aware of her activities.

"I'm not going to tell your sister," Glenys heard Vorstag saying, though she wasn't certain what had transpired to lead to that statement. All had been silent before that. "I don't believe for a moment she would turn you out or think any different of you, but I know she will worry. Besides, it isn't my story to tell."

Nesta hadn't answered, and Vorstag was quick to return to their bed.

"She's in the Theives' Guild, isn't she?" Glenys whispered after he had lied down and wrapped her in his strong arms.

"Aye," Vorstag answered.

Glenys sighed but didn't comment any more on the subject. How Nesta earned her living was none of her business, and if she was happy that was all that Glenys cared about.

* * *

As the weeks passed, Glenys spent her days with her sister, showing her around her new home and giving her a tour of all the attractions, including Calcelmo's museum. She enjoyed her time with Nesta immensely and was sad to see her go when her business was concluded. Glenys was happy. She was comfortable in her home, enjoyed the city and the friends she'd made, and was in love with Vorstag, but she missed her family and hated that she didn't know when she would see them again.

Nesta promised to look in on her whenever she returned to Markarth and that she would keep in touch through letters, and Glenys agreed to write often as well, promising also to write to Aerenwen and offer to help with any information she may need on the Dragonborn business.

Glenys watched from her perch outside her house as her sister exited the gates of the city and mounted a horse at the stables, saying a silent prayer to whatever gods or ancestors may be listening that they watched over her sister and kept her safe on the dangerous path she had chosen for herself.


	17. The Hall of the Dead

Chapter Three: The Hall of the Dead (Tirdas, 28th of Frostfall)

Glenys was just leaving Calcelmo's Museum and making her way through Understone Keep one sunny afternoon when she was approached by Brother Verulus. She knew this man was a priest of Arkay and in charge of Markarth's Hall of the Dead. They'd spoken a bit in passing but hadn't really conversed much.

"Excuse me, Glenys?" he stated. "I was wondering if I may have a private word with you." He glanced over his shoulder where some of the city guards were within earshot.

She nodded and followed him toward the cavern where Calcelmo based his excavation, stopping with him outside what she knew was the interior entrance to the Hall of the Dead.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but everyone I have spoken with has confirmed that you are both trustworthy and intelligent," he stated. "Are you aware of the situation with the Hall of the Dead?"

"I know that it has been closed to visitors since before I arrived here nearly two months ago now," Glenys replied. "I know that is extremely unusual and that the townsfolk are quite displeased that they are unable to visit their honored dead."

Verulus nodded with a sad frown. "Something was discovered, and we closed the hall both out of fear for the citizen's safety and to avoid them discovering what we have until we can determine what exactly is occurring here."

"What's going on?" Glenys asked, although a part of her was screaming at her to stop asking questions. Didn't her curiosity usually land her in heaps of trouble?

"We've discovered that some of the dead have been eaten," the priest answered with a cringe. "Flesh has been chewed off. Bones were snapped to get at the marrow inside. It isn't skeevers . . . I know what skeever infestations look like, and we've seen no sign of them. Something else . . . or someone . . . is feasting on the dead of Markarth."

Glenys swallowed and suppressed a shiver. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You are a Thane of the Reach," Verulus replied. "You have earned the respect of the Jarl and the people, and you seem eager to help our citizens and keep our people safe. I . . . between my rites and fielding questions, I have little time for research. I was wondering if you could aid me simply by researching cannibalism. If we determine why they are being eaten, perhaps we can put a stop to it."

She nodded. Research. She could handle research. "You're sure it isn't Falmer?" Markarth was a Dwemer city, after all, and she had seen first hand that the wretched elvish race dwelled within the ruins beneath it.

Verulus shook his head. "That was our first thought when we ruled out skeevers, but there is no access to the Hall from the ruins. We've searched thoroughly."

Glenys nodded and agreed, wandering back toward her home. Her book collection was growing rapidly. She purchased nearly every book Lisbet ever had in stock, and Vorstag always brought her any he found in his travels. Perhaps she was already in possession of something that may give her some insight on the situation.

 **Author's Note: This was a short chapter, but it establishes things that will be revisited later on in the story. This is the last of this installment of Glenys' tale. I will be beginning Steffen's next update next week, I hope (spring has brought with it some crazy busy days, but things seem to be settling so I hope to be more regular with my updates again).**


	18. Cannibals

Part IV: Sun's Dusk

Chapter One: Cannibals (Loredas, First of Sun's Dusk)

Glenys had spent several days researching cannibalism in her personal library. At first, she had been coming up empty, aside from anything she read leading her toward the Falmer or those who suffered from Lycanthropy or Sanguinaire Vampiris. Yet they had already ruled out the Falmer, and she didn't believe that werewolves or vampires would be sneaking into a Hall of the Dead to feast on corpses. They both, from what she gathered, would have required fresher meals, and it didn't seem to be their style.

Finally, when combing through a book called The Beggar Prince, which mentioned the Daedric Lord Namira, her memory was jogged by something she had learned in her earlier research on the Daedric Princes back in her homeland. Followers of Namira, the Daedric Prince of disease and pestilence, were very secretive, but many believed they practiced cannibalism in their rites.

On Loredas morning, she decided to return to the Hall of the Dead and seek out Brother Verulus. She wished to have a closer look at exactly what was occuring within the crypt if only for her own curiosity and to rule out the Falmer or a desperate werewolf for herself.

Verulus allowed her entrance but refused to follow her inside, and she paused in the empty hall, lined with coffins. Vorstag would probably have a lot to say about her wandering inside on her own, but it wasn't as if she was taking on the cannibals herself. She just wanted to see the proof of their visitations with her own eyes. Perhaps seeing exactly what was occuring would help guide her in further research.

She rounded a corner and encountered the first disturbed corpse. She didn't know much about dead bodies, but she knew a lot about anatomy, and Glenys could see for herself that the bones had been broken. The marrow inside was gone, and the bit of flesh left of the corpse had bite marks in it - human bite marks from what she could tell. She supressed a shiver and slid the heavy stone lid back onto the coffin.

Just as she was turning to delve deeper into the crypt, a female voice came from behind her.

"Not many would walk blindly into a crypt without wreaking of fear."

Glenys spun around, but she could see no one. She summoned a guiding light to her palm, illuminating the shadowed cavern, but she still couldn't see anyone else there.

"I feel the hunger inside of you, gnawing at you," the mysterious woman continued. "You see the dead, and your mouth waters. Your stomach growls. It's all right. I will not shun you for what you are. Stay. I will tell you everything you have forgotten."

Glenys frowned and fought the feelings of revulsion that came upon her with what the woman was suggesting. She was not a cannibal, nor did she have any desire to be one, but if hearing this woman out could give her some answers, maybe help to get her away from the Hall of Dead, she would do so.

The woman materialized in front of Glenys then as if out of thin air, and she realized an invisibility potion or spell of some sort was what had been allowing her to come and go from the Hall undetected. She was a short woman with the stature, fine features, and complexion of a Breton, though her chin-length hair was a light brown, almost blonde. She wore the armor of a warrior, and a sword hung at her hip. Warpaint adorned the left side of her face, barely concealing scars around a damaged eye that was clouded and probably sightless.

"You were young when you first tasted human flesh, weren't you?" she asked as she approached Glenys slowly. "An accident, of course, but then the hunger set in and the curiosity. What harm could one bite cause? It's okay. You've found a friend who understands you. You can let go of your guilt, elf."

Glenys narrowed her eyes at the woman, deciding she didn't like her. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," she replied. "I don't have any guilt, and I'm not a cannibal."

"Many of our kind block out the memories of their first meal," the woman replied. "The shame is too much for them, but you don't need to hide anymore. Namira, the Lady of Decay, accepts you for what you are. She has a place for us, and we can sate our appetites without judgement. I am Eola. What is your name?"

"Glenys," the Altmer replied. She decided she would allow the woman to continue her delusions in reference to her supposed cannibalism. She'd just gotten an answer, after all. The worship of Namira was behind the desecration of the Hall of the Dead, but if they had a safe place to perform their rites, why were they here? "Where is this place?" she asked.

"It is inside Reachcliff Cave," Eola answered, "but the dead have stirred from their slumber recently, and I was forced here."

"You need to find someplace else," Glenys responded. "They have closed the Hall to avoid the citizens finding out, but they wish to pay respect to their dead. You are causing distress, and you will be caught if you continue."

"Help me clean out my home, and I will never return her again," Eola replied with a shrug. "I cannot take the draugr on alone. There are too many."

Glenys thought a moment. Vorstag wouldn't be happy that she had gotten tangled up in more Daedric worship, but if helping this woman solved the problem with the Hall of the Dead, they needed to do it. And helping her didn't necessarily mean having to deal with Namira. They'd just meet Eola at this cave and clean out the draugr. They wouldn't involve themselves with the worship of Namira at all.

"I'm not equiped to help you," she finally answered, "but I know someone who is. He can be trusted. Tell me where this cave is, and we will help you clear it out, so that you may leave the dead here in peace."

"Very well," Eola agreed with a smile. "Reachcliff Cave is located south in an easterly direction. I will meet you there tomorrow at dawn."

Glenys left the Hall of the Dead and was immediately greeted by Brother Verulus. She chose not tell him what had happened but simply explained that she had gotten some clues to further her research and would check back in with him in a few days. She wanted to make certain that Eola held up her end of the bargain first.


	19. Reachcliff Cave

Chapter Two: Reachcliff Cave (Sundas, the Second of Sun's Dusk)

The trio found Reachcliff Cave easily, though Vorstag and Argis were less than pleased that Glenys' business had brought her into the realm of Daedric worship again. This time, however, they understood that it wasn't her curiosity that had gotten them into a mess but that she'd been asked for help due to her position of respect, and they both agreed that they needed to clean out this cave for the Namira worshippers in order to get them away from the Hall of the Dead.

Eola stood outside the cave's entrance in the dim light of dawn and smiled in obvious relief as they approached. "You came," she stated, and Glenys suspected that the woman had worried she wouldn't.

She nodded. "We're here to help so long as you keep up your end of the bargain to stay out of Markarth's Hall of the Dead."

Eola nodded. "I swear. The draugr are infesting Namira's sanctuary," she explained. "Come. I will show you."

Inside the cave, Glenys helped how she could with destruction spells as the three warriors fought off dozens of draugr. It seemed every corner they turned, they encountered scores more, but eventually, they stood in a large cavern, the center of it filled with a long table and the end of it with some sort of alter.

"We've done it," Eola stated with a smile, leaning against the table. "The shrine is ours again. Thank you. I couldn't have done it without your help."

Vorstag and Argis simply nodded and looked to Glenys to wrap up their business with this unsavory character.

"You're welcome," Glenys replied. "The people of Markarth will be relieved to have their Hall of the Dead opened to them once again."

Eola appeared distracted as she glanced around the cavern. "Now we need to prepare a great feast to welcome you into Namira's coven," she stated. "You will have the honor of bringing a fresh kill for the main course, and I know the perfect person. Brother Verulus."

Glenys felt her warriors stiffen beside her. "Thank you for the offer," she stated politely, "and I mean no offense, but I have no desire to join you. I was simply helping out of service for my fellow citizens of Markarth."

"Very well," Eola replied, her eyes narrowed. "If you change your mind, Glenys, you know where to find me."

"Stay away from that woman," Vorstag grumbled as they made their way back out of the cave into the daylight.

"Oh don't worry," Glenys promised. "I have no intentions of ever seeing her again."

* * *

Brother Verulus was full of relief when Glenys told him the Hall of the Dead was safe again.

"It was cannibals, you were right," she informed him. "Worshippers of Namira."

The priest cringed at that. "I don't need to know the details," he stated, "but I assume they've been dealt with."

Glenys nodded. "They won't bother you again."

"Thank you, Glenys," he replied with a smile. "I'll clean up their mess and open the Hall of the Dead back up to the public at once. I will let the Jarl know of your further service to our fair city."

He turned to walk away, but Glenys called out to him.

"Um, I'm not certain of how serious the threat is," Glenys stated, "but you may be in danger. Namira has a coven not far from the city, and I have no idea how many worshippers she has or even who they are aside from the one who had desecrated the Hall of Dead, but she tried to get me to join them, and your name was mentioned as a possible . . . meal."

The priest sighed. "Unfortunately worshippers of Namira often target Arkay's devotees. Thank you for the warning, Glenys. I will make certain to be wary."

Glenys nodded and wandered back toward her home, thankful that this brush with Daedric worship had ended much more neatly than her last.


	20. A Visitor

Chapter Three: A Visitor (Tirdas, the 11th of Sun's Dusk)

Glenys' life had been fairly uneventful since her dealings with the cannibal. She spent her days working in Calcelmo's laboratory, aiding the old man in his research, or conducting her own. Aicanter still pressed on her last nerve, but she put up with his presence if only to watch him closely. The younger Altmer was obsessed with his research into electroharmonics and his desire to get the spider to work outside of the museum, and Glenys worried about the implications of it.

It was a rainy afternoon, and after spending the morning with Aicanter, Glenys had retreated to her own library to read some books that Vorstag had recently procured for her. They were Nordic legends and referenced the dragons. She'd been doing what she could to compile information in case Aerenwen needed her help, but so far she was having a difficult time sorting myth from fact and without knowing exactly what was going on with her sister, she had no idea what would actually be of help to the Dragonborn.

A knock on her door pulled her from her reading slightly, but Vorstag stated that he would answer it, so she returned to her book. She could hear Vorstag answer the door, and she dropped her book and smiled when she recognized the voice of her unexpected visitor.

"I'm Mari. Is my sister home?"

Mari had been in need of help and wisdom, showing up with three books she had retrieved for the College in reference to an ancient artifact they had found buried beneath the ruins of the Nordic city of Saarthal.

Glenys had served her sister food and wine while she quickly reread the books, having recognized the titles as ones she had read years ago when she had first begun studying with her mentor, Calmir.

She then went into a history lesson for her sister in reference to their ancestors and the various races of elves. It sounded to her like whatever it was that had been found was something mer-created, possibly by the Ayleids or even their predecessors, or perhaps, even something left over from times long before their known history when their ancestors, the Aldmer, had traveled from Old Ehlnofey. She surmised that the artifact's discovery by the ancient Nords had been what led the Snow Elves to attack them in what had become known through history as the Night of Tears. They hadn't wanted the Nords to have possession of it and wanted it to stay hidden or else it would have been moved after their victory. Now the College had discovered it once again, and the implications of the discovery were vast and disturbing.

Glenys felt badly that she couldn't give her sister anything beyond her own theories but left her with with a warning at the end of her spiel. "You're dealing with something very powerful and very ancient."

Mari sighed. "This damn thing should have stayed buried," she commented.

Glenys nodded her agreement. "What are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know," Mari answered. "I suppose I'll just give them all the theories. I gather the only ones who know more definitively what this thing is would be the Psijics, and they're not exactly fans of sharing information."

Glenys chuckled. "They're watching you," she commented after a few moments of silence. "They have put their trust in you. Mother would be proud."

Mari smiled sadly. "I wish she were here," she sighed. "She may have been of some help with this."

Glenys reached forward and took hold of her sister's hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Tread carefully, Mariwen. Our ancestors were in tune with magicka and elements that we wouldn't even begin to comprehend. There is no telling what this thing is capable of, and whatever you do, do everything in your power to make sure that Thalmor agent at the College does not take it. If the Thalmor get ahold of it . . ." she trailed off with a frown. She didn't need to finish her sentence. The Thalmor abused the power they already had. They certainly didn't need to be possession of something that would give them even more.


	21. The Dragonborn

Chapter Seven: The Dragonborn (Tirdas/Middas/Turdas, 18/19/20th of Sun's Dusk)

Glenys had just completed her preparations for dinner and wandered out of the kitchen area to find Vorstag and Argis. She entered the living area of her home and froze in surprise. Entering the room from the opposite doorway with her housecarl was Aerenwen, along with three other people.

She broke into a grin and rushed toward her older sister. "Aerenwen!" They embraced. "I've heard much of your exploits from our sisters and random townsfolk eager to share the rumors of the Dragonborn, but it's so good to see that you're safe with my own eyes. You look well."

"As do you, sister," Aerenwen replied. "This is Aela," she stated, pulling a red-headed Nord woman dressed in the armor and warpaint of a warrior to the front of the group.

"It's so good to finally meet you," Glenys gushed as she surprised the other woman by pulling her into a hug.

"You, as well, Glenys," Aela replied once she'd gotten over her surprise and returned the embrace.

"And this is Delphine and Esbern." Aerenwen continued the introductions, gesturing toward her two older companions. "They are colleagues of mine in the Dragonborn business."

Delphine was a woman who appeared to have been of Breton descent, though her hair was blonde. She, too, was dressed as a warrior in fine leather armor. Esbern was an elderly man in simple clothing who possessed a much friendlier demeanor than his companion.

"It's good to meet you," Glenys stated, reaching out to shake their hands.

"You as well," Esbern gushed while Delphine returned her handshake in silence. "Aerenwen thought you may, perhaps, be of some help to us. We're trying to pinpoint the precise location of a ruin, Sky Haven Temple."

"The ancient Akaviri temple!" Glenys replied excitedly with a nod of her head. "It was the base of the Blades in Skyrim, was it not?"

Esbern grinned. "Yes," the old man confirmed. "I've discerned an area I believe it to be located in, by comparing the ancient maps with modern ones, but these three are reluctant to go out exploring without knowing exactly where we're going, what with the presence of the Forsworn in the area."

"My fight is not with the Forsworn," Aerenwen stated. "I don't wish to battle needlessly to find this temple."

"I may be able to help with that as well," Glenys offered. "I am an acquaintance, I suppose, of their king, Madanach. Perhaps, if we are able to pinpoint the precise location of this temple, he will allow us passage."

Delphine's eyes widened at that. "If you could arrange that, it would be immensely helpful."

"There's no guarantees, of course," Glenys replied, "but I can try. The Forsworn are just as affected by the presence of the dragons as the rest of us. If finding the temple will help you in this war with the dragons, it would behoove them to aide us in whatever way they can. What exactly are you hoping to find in the temple?" She began pulling tomes off the bookshelves and piling them on a nearby table. She'd accumulated quite a few in reference to the ancient Dragon War and the Septim line of Dragonborns, and she hoped something she had could help them.

"Alduin's Wall," Esbern replied.

Glenys nodded. She'd heard of the magnificent carved wall located within the Blades temple, a fete of the ancient world, but she paused and turned to her visitors with wide eyes when the implications set in. If they needed to find the wall, which, from her research, documented the defeat of Alduin and prophesied his return . . . "Does that mean . . . Alduin has returned?" she asked, glancing at her sister with a concerned and fearful expression, as she voiced her thoughts.

Aerenwen nodded. "I've encountered him twice," she explained. "He is the reason the dragons are returning."

"We're talking the literal end of the world if he isn't defeated, aren't we?" Glenys asked. She feared she already knew the answer.

Aerenwen nodded gravely.

Glenys blinked and shook her head. "Esbern, show me the area where you believe the temple to be located."

The old man pulled out his books, and the warriors sat down to watch as the scholars compared notes.

* * *

After hours of researching, combing through tomes, and comparing various maps, Glenys and Esbern were in agreement as to the most likely location of Sky Haven Temple. They supposed it was located around an area known to locals as the Karthspire. It was just south of Markarth, located around a bend in the river at the base of one of the Reach's many mountains, and as the group had feared, it was one of the Forsworn's many base camps.

That was how, after a meal of roasted goat leg, grilled leaks, and baked potatoes, the group found themselves riding north rather than south to meet up with Madanach, the king of the Forsworn, in hopes to avoid unnecessary conflict in their quest.

The ride to Druadach Redoubt was familiar to Glenys now after having made the trip before, and she and Vorstag led the way through the twisting roads of the Reach. As they neared the Forsworn camp, they were once again halted by a group of the primitively dressed warriors.

Glenys recognized at least one of them from their escape from the mine, the woman who had met them with their belongings upon their exit, and she wondered if she recognized her as well as they did not make to attack and allowed her to guide her horse closer.

"We are looking for Madanach," Glenys announced. "He told me to find him here if I was ever in need of him."

"You are the one from Markarth they call Glenys, yes?" the woman asked. Glenys wished she remembered her name.

She nodded in reply, and the female turned toward one of the men and gave him orders in their language that seemed to be a mix between the native languages of the Bretons and the Nords. That warrior disappeared, and the two groups stood facing one another in a tense silence for some time until he returned with Madanach and Borkul at his side.

"Hello, Glenys," the old man stated. His smile was friendly as he studied the group she was with. "I won't lie, I am surprised you sought me out again. What is it that you need?"

"Madanach, this is my sister, Aerenwen," the young elf stated with a nod toward her sister who slowly guided her horse forward so that the two Altmer now sat side by side upon their horses. "She is the Dragonborn, and her business in trying to stop the return of the dragons has brought her to The Reach."

Madanach gave the other woman a nod of respect. "We have heard the rumors of the elf woman who was born with the dragon blood and have seen the dragons who have returned with our own eyes. What brings you to the Reach, Dragonborn?"

"The return of the dragons is being orchestrated by the dragon known as Alduin," Aerenwen explained. "My colleagues and I are on a quest to stop him as the ancient Nords once did, and our search for answers has led us to seeking out the ancient Sky Haven Temple. We believe it to be located somewhere around the Forsworn camp called the Karthspire."

Again, the old man nodded. "The entrance to this temple is within the cave there," he confirmed. "What do you need from me?"

"My fight is not with the Forsworn," Aerenwen replied. "The dragons do not care whether you are a Nord, a Reachman, an Elf, a Stormcloak, or an Imperial. They are killing us all and will continue to do so if I do not stop them. The answers I seek will benefit people of all races, all clans, all political affiliations, and we were hoping you could help us access this temple through your people's camp without any bloodshed."

"That is an admirable desire," Madanach commented. He studied the group, deep in thought for a moment. "The words you say are true. Just three days ago, a dragon decimated one of our own camps. They are a plague on our land, and if you are able to stop them, it will benefit my kinsmen just as much as it would the Nords. I commend you for going out of your way to avoid unnecessary human casualties during your fight with the dragons, and you have earned my respect, Dragonborn. This is Borkul," he stated with a nod toward the large Orc. "He is one of my most trusted warriors, and he will accompany you to the Karthspire. From hence forward, anyone arriving there baring the ancient mark of the Dragonborn will be allowed access into the temple, and so long as no actions of aggression toward my people are made by yours, they will be received in peace."

"Thank you, Madanach," Aerenwen answered. "We appreciate your cooperation, and I assure you, we have no ill will toward your people. Our fight is with Alduin and his minions alone."

"Good luck, Dragonborn," the old man stated with a wry smile. "Your road is wrought with peril, but your heart is true and will guide you in your quest."


	22. Sky Haven Temple

Chapter Four: Sky Haven Temple (Loredas, 22nd of Sun's Dusk)

The Karthspire was a Forsworn village built around winding streams off the river, nestled between steep cliffs. It was a primitive village, full of tents of animal hide and rustic relics to their old gods.

Madanach had sent word ahead, so they were expected, but Borkul had accompanied them and led them through the village. There were crumbled stone statues here and there, relics of some sort of temple or holy place the ancient Nords once had there.

The group received several curious looks as they passed through the village. They entered a cave filled with a few beds, bookshelves, and chests and lit by lanterns.

"This is where I leave you," Borkul stated in his deep, rough voice. "The entrance to the temple is through there." He nodded toward a narrow tunnel leading out of the cavern. "We've never accessed it. Those who built it didn't want outsiders to get in, I suppose. Good luck, Dragonborn."

Aerenwen thanked the Orc for his assistance and followed Esbern and Delphine who led the way through the tunnel.

The old man began ranting in his usual excited way when they came to a manmade area of the cave. It was located in a crevice, the blue sky visible far above them, and greenery grew upon the ancient structures. A stone bridge was lifted and inaccessible, and three stone pillars stood ahead of them. He explained the symbols on the pillars which were all ancient Akaviri in origin.

"So that one in the middle is the Dragonborn symbol?" Aerenwen confirmed.

Esbern nodded eagerly at her.

"Seems to me that would be the key if this temple was built as some sort of homage to the dragon blood," the elf commented. She turned the three pillars so that they all matched, after a bit of a struggle, and the stone bridge lowered.

The group continued through winding tunnels until they arrived in a small cavern. Pressure plates littered the floor, some of which were engraved with the symbol of the Dragonborn. On a whim, Aerenwen stepped on the first engraved one. When nothing happened, she continued following them in a twisting path across the space to where a pull chain hung from a pillar. It was difficult, and on a few occasions, she almost lost her balance, but soon she was close enough to lunge at the chain and pull it. A loud click echoed through the room, and the pressure plates no longer shifted under her weight, allowing the others to cross.

Eventually, they arrived in a large open cavern. A door appeared in front them, engraved with a face, and an intricate rounded tile sat in the middle of the floor.

"Wonderful!" Esbern commented as he studied the architecture. "Remarkably well preserved, too." He gestured toward the emblem on the ground. "Here's the blood seal, another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by . . . well, blood. Your blood, Dragonborn.

"Look here!" He gestured toward the carving on the door ahead of them. "You see how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil. This whole place appears to be a shrine to Reman. He ended the Akaviri invasion under mysterious circumstances, you recall. After the so-called battle of the Pale Pass, the Akaviri went into his service. This was the foundation stone of the Second Empire."

"So, I just put my blood on the seal?" Aerenwen asked, pulling her dagger from its sheath and trying to guide the old man back to the topic at hand.

Esbern nodded, and Aerenwen sliced the sharp blade across her palm, kneeling down over the seal. The others watched as her blood began to trickle off her hand and onto the seal, and after a few moments, the door carved with Reman Cyrodiil's face opened for them.

"There's no telling what we might find inside!" Esbern exclaimed eagerly as he rushed through the now opened door with Glenys at his heels. When Aerenwen had invited her along to explore the temple, she hadn't hesitated in accepting. It was an opportunity she couldn't pass up.

Vorstag chuckled at his lover and followed with the others trailing behind.

As Glenys followed Esbern deeper into the temple, Vorstag and Delphine began to use their torches to light the braziers that lined the corridor and the great hall they entered. At the edge of the hall stood a large, curved wall carved with intricate pictures, and Glenys knew immediately this was it - Alduin's Wall. She and the old man studied it closer, pacing along the length of the massive work of art, and she took a moment to appreciate the fact that they stood within an ancient temple that no one had entered for generations. Even when the Blades still existed before the Great War, this place had fallen into disuse, its location forgotten.

Glenys noticed her sister approach Esbern out of the corner of her eye and tuned into their conversation.

"This is it?" she asked. "Alduin's Wall?"

The old man nodded distractedly. "Look," he said gesturing to the far left of the mural, "here is Alduin. This panel goes back to the beginning of time when Alduin and his Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim. Here, the humans rebel against their dragon overlords," he stated as he moved further down the wall. "The legendary Dragon War. Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the wall. You see, here he is falling from the sky. The Nord Tongues - masters of the Voice - are arrayed against him."

"So, does it show how they defeated him?" Delphine asked. She, Aela, and Vorstag had approached during Esbern's spiel. "Isn't that why we're here?"

"Patience, my dear," the old scholar replied with a chuckle. "The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism." He turned back to the wall. "This here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes, this is the Akaviri symbol for 'Shout', but there's no way to know what Shout is meant."

"You mean they used a Shout to defeat Alduin?" Delphine asked, her skepticism clear in her voice. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes," the old man replied. "Presumably something rather specific to dragons or even Alduin himself. Remember, this is where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return."

"So, we're looking for a Shout then," Delphine muttered. "Damn it." After a moment, she turned toward Aerenwen. "Have you ever heard of such a thing?" she asked. "A Shout that can knock a dragon out of the sky?"

Aerenwen shook her head. "Not yet."

The older woman sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that. I guess there's nothing for it. We'll have to ask the Greybeards for their help." The amount of displeasure caused by this turn of events was obvious in the former Blade's expression. "I hoped to avoid involving them in this, but we have no other choice."

"What do you have against the Greybeards?" Glenys asked curiously. It wasn't the first time she had noticed the former Blade's disdain for the group of monks.

"If they had their way, the Dragonborn would do nothing but sit up on their mountain with them and talk to the sky," Delphine answered, "or whatever it is they do. The Greybeards are so afraid of power that they won't use it. Think about it. Have they tried to stop the civil war or done anything about Alduin? No. And they're afraid of you," she added, turning back toward Aerenwen, "of your power. Trust me. There is no need to be afraid. Think of Tiber Septim. Do you think he'd have founded the Empire if he'd listened to the Greybeards?"

"I'm not afraid," Aerenwen assured the surly older woman. "The Greybeards and their knowledge serve a purpose, but I do not agree with their lifestyle."

"Good," Delphine answered with a nod. "They can certainly teach you a lot, but don't let them turn you away from your destiny. You're Dragonborn, and you're the only one who can stop Alduin. Our lives are in your hands. Don't forget that."

Aerenwen's response was a simple nod as she turned back toward the wall which her sister and Esbern were still studying intently.

"Rest here for the night, Dragonborn," Esbern stated with a soft smile. "It's a long journey to High Hrothgar from here." He then turned toward Glenys. "You and your man are welcome to stay for however long you like. Your observations would be most appreciated, and you are welcome to explore the Temple to see what you can uncover."

Glenys smiled at the old man and decided she would probably take him up on the offer. She turned toward Vorstag with a pleading look in her eyes.

He chuckled. "We don't have any pressing concerns waiting for us in Markarth, Glenys," he told her. "I suppose we can spare a few days for you to explore."

Glenys grinned at that and turned back toward the wall, eager to take in as much information as she could.


	23. Suspicions at Home

Chapter Five: Suspicions at Home (Turdas, 26th of Sun's Dusk)

Glenys had explored Sky Haven Temple from top to bottom before finally deciding it was time to leave. Unfortunately, aside from Alduin's Wall, there hadn't been much of interest inside the temple. Though there had been many books left behind, most were damaged and moth-eaten. There were several sets of Blades armor as well as weapons, but aside from the thrill of being able to say she'd seen such a thing with her own eyes, those held little interest to Glenys and her scholarly mind.

Aerenwen hadn't returned since she and Aela had struck off for High Hrothgar, and Glenys assumed it would be some time before she did so. The journey was a long one, and she had no doubt, from what she had heard, that the two women would take some time to return to Whiterun on their journey. After all, Aerenwen was now Harbinger of the Companions, of which Aela was also a highly ranked member, and their responsibilities there didn't just go away because of the return of the dragons. They would want to check in to make sure everything was running smoothly in their absence, and her sister also had a home and a son to look in on.

It was early evening when Glenys and Vorstag returned home, and Argis assured them that nothing had happened of concern while they were away. He had an apple cabbage soup on to boil and served up bowls for them, knowing they would be tired from their journey.

The trio had just finished eating when there was a knock on the door. Argis went to answer it and returned a few moments later with a grim look on his face. The Thalmor emissary was a few steps behind him.

"Glenys, I would like a moment of your time," Ondolomar stated.

"Of course," she replied, standing out of politeness. She noticed that Argis had his hand on his sword, and Vorstag stood beside her as well, doing the same. This visit was concerning, yes, but the fact that Ondolomar was alone and without his entourage of other Thalmor officials who were usually following him around set her a bit at ease.

"I've just received correspondence from our homeland," he stated. "Aldmeris, for though you told me you were from Solitude, I've observed you, and your accent is certainly not that of one native to Skyrim."

Glenys nodded. "I was born in Aldmeris, yes," she replied. "I traveled to Skyrim many years ago to pursue research. I've been here for close to fifteen years now," she lied.

"Interesting," Ondolomar stated. "From where in Aldmeris do you hail?" he asked. "Mathiisen, perhaps?"

Glenys was filled with dread. "I've never actually visited Auridon," she lied, "aside from the ship upon which I traveled to the mainland stopping briefly in Vokhul Guard. I am from Shimmerene and had spent all my years upon the Isle of Summerset before traveling to Cyrodiil and then Skyrim."

"Ah, so you wouldn't know anything then about the group of traitorous siblings from Mathiisen that my superiors are in search of, I suppose," Ondolomar said. His eyes were narrowed as he studied Glenys, and she hoped she didn't give away her fear or the fact that she was lying.

"None whatsoever," she replied. "I've been out of touch with the affairs of our homeland for many years. Are these siblings in Skyrim?"

"We're not certain," Ondolmar answered, "though it is believed they fled Auridon."

"They could be anywhere in Tamriel then," Glenys supplied. "How long ago did they flee?"

"Several months ago," the emissary answered.

"What is it that they did?" she wondered.

"That's privileged information," he replied. "Just know that they are traitors wanted by the Dominion and that this information has been sent to Thalmor emissaries throughout Tamriel. They will be found, and they will answer for their crimes."

"Of course," Glenys agreed, hoping she sounded convincing. "If I hear of anything, I will come to you immediately, though I doubt I would ever be more privy to information than you. As I said, I've long been out of touch with the homeland. My parents are both deceased, and I only had one sister," she added, knowing that many in the city were aware that Nesta was her sister during the other woman's stay there. "She lives in Dawnstar, currently. I have no family left in the Dominion and haven't done well at keeping in touch with others I knew there."

"Thank you for that and for your continued loyalty to the Dominion," the older Altmer stated. "I thought I would check with you to see if you knew anything, especially given that you share a name with one of these felons."

Glenys' eyes widened, but she hoped he took it as surprise rather than fear. "One of them is called Glenys?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. There are six of them. Five sisters and a brother."

"Such an unusually large family for Aldmeris," she commented.

He 'hmmm'd' an agreement and watched her closely as he listed off the names, no doubt watching for a spark of recognition. "Aerenwen, Elain, Nesta, Steffen, Mariwen, and Glenys."

Glenys shook her head. "The only other Glenys I have ever met was my mother's aunt," she lied. "Such an acentric old woman. I knew a Steffen back in Shimmerene, a handsome young man just a few years older than myself, and I met an Elain when I was traveling through Bruma all those years ago, but she was certainly not an Altmer. A Nord, I believe, though you know how it is. All the races of men sort of blend together."

This caused the man to smile slightly in agreement, and she hoped he was no longer suspecting that she and the Glenys he had been told of were one and the same.

"At this time, though you share the name and general description of one of these felons, I see no reason to report your presence to my superiors," Ondolomar informed her. "This conversation and your previous actions here have left me feeling rather secure in the belief that those facts are just mere coincidence. You're clearly in Markarth to further your research and working with Calcelmo, not hiding, and you have never acted suspicious in my presence. Of course, your assistance in the matter we earlier discussed would further prove your innocence to me." He glanced with disdain toward the two Nords in the room and added, "Though your choice in companions leaves a bit to be desired." He glanced around the room once more. "Out of curiosity, where were you over the last several days? I was told you had visitors and then left the city and only just returned tonight."

"Some old friends from Solitude stopped by to say hello while they were in the area," she lied, "and then Vorstag and I traveled west to explore a Dwemer ruin. I was hoping to find something there to aid my current research with Calcelmo, and though I did find much of interest, I'm afraid it was a dead end in that regard."

He nodded. "One of those visitors wasn't, perhaps, the Dragonborn, was it?" he questioned.

She let out a laugh at that. "The Dragonborn? Why on earth would the Dragonborn be visiting me?"

"She is a fellow Altmer, I've heard," he replied. "An Altmer by the name of Aerenwen, and I have it on good authority that the same night you received visitors, the Dragonborn was in the city asking for directions to your home."

Well, shit. Glenys would have to tell her siblings to use more discretion in terms of their relation to her when visiting the city. "To my knowledge, I have never met the Dragonborn, myself," she lied, "but the friends I mentioned? They are scholars as well. They didn't tell me what their reason for visiting Markarth was, but they did pick my brain for any information I had on the dragons. They were traveling with others who I never met because they never came inside during the short visit. It's possible, I suppose, that they were helping the Dragonborn, and she was one of those others."

He nodded and seemed to believe her, and Glenys could only hope that no one reported that she had been seen leaving the city with this Dragonborn. She decided to continue her lie, just to be safe. "We left the city at the same time," she supplied, "but again, I was not introduced to a few members of the large group, and we struck off in different directions. I'll certainly be asking if I see them again if one of them was the Dragonborn. I can't believe I could have been in the presence of the one I've heard so much about and wasn't even introduced!" She did her best to sound both excited and appalled by the idea.

Ondolmar chuckled at that. "I assure you, some Nordic hero, Altmer or not, is no one worth getting that excited over. The Thalmor will find the cause of the dragon's return and deal will it swiftly as they always do when a threat looms over Tamriel."

"Of course," Glenys falsely agreed. "Who knows where we would be if the Thalmor hadn't saved us all during the Oblivion Crisis?"

That lie appeared to completely satisfy Ondolmar who thanked her for her time and was politely escorted out by Argis.

"We're lucky you're such a good actress," Vorstag commented after he had left.

Glenys nodded and collapsed into a chair. As soon as she had her whits about her again, she immediately penned letters to all of her siblings, warning them that news of their felony status had reached Skyrim and that if they ever traveled to Markarth, to not let it be known they were related. Vorstag took the letters to find a currier, and she prayed to the gods that her lies would not be seen through, and her life in Markarth would not be disrupted by the Thalmor.

 **Author's Note: This is the end of this part of Glenys' story. An update on Steffen's will be next . . .**


End file.
